THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


OFFENBACH 

AMERICA 


NOTES   OF  A   TRAVELLING   MUSICIAN. 

BY  JACQUES  OFFENBACH. 

WITH   A   BIOGRAPHICAL    PREFACE 
BY  ALBERT  WOLFF. 

Translated  from  advance  sheets  of  the  original  Paris  Edition. 


NEW   YORK: 

G.   W.   Carleton  &   Co.,  Publishers. 

PARIS:    C.    LEVY. 
MDCCCLXXVII. 


COPYRIGHT,  1877,  BY 
G.  W.  CARLETON  &  CO. 


JOHN  F.  TROW  &  SON, 

PRINTERS  AND  BOOKBINDERS, 

205-213  Kast  \ztk  Street, 

NEW  YORK. 


1377 


TO   MY  WIFE. 

DEAR  FRIEND. 

It  was  you  who  wished  me  to  make  up  a  book 
from  the  scattered  notes  and  random  utterances 
of  my  heart.  It  is  the  first  sorrow  you  have 
caused  me.  I  bear  you  so  little  grudge,  however, 
that  I  beg  you  will  allow  me  to  dedicate  this 
volume  to  you,  not  for  what  it  contains  or  for  what 
it  is  worth,  but  because  I  love  to  manifest  in  every 
way  my  esteem  and  my  affection  for  you. 

JACQUES  OFFENBACH. 


548613 

CISRAR/ 


CONTENTS. 


PAGB 

BIOGRAPHICAL  PREFACE,  BY  ALBERT  WOLFF 7 

CHAPTER  I. 
Before  Leaving 35 

CHAPTER  II. 
The  Passage  Out 43 

CHAPTER  III. 
New  York— Gilmore's  Garden 54 

CHAPTER  IV. 
The  Houses— The  Streets— The  Cars 61 

CHAPTER  V. 
Theatres  in  New  York 68 

CHAPTER  VI. 
Art  in  America 79 

CHAPTER  VII. 
Restaurants — Three  Types  of  Waiters 85 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
American  Women — Introductions — Central  Park 95 

CHAPTER   IX. 
The  Story  of  Two  Statues 100 

CHAPTER  X. 
Liberty  in  America 109 

CHAPTER  XL 
Societies  and  Processions 121 


VI  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

CHAPTER  XII. 
Advertising  and  Puffing 123 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

The  Turf— Jerome  Park 128 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

The  American  Newspaper  Press 132 

CHAPTER  XV. 
A  Few  Character  Sketches 141 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
Philadelphia 153 

CHAPTER   XVII. 
Offenbach  Garden 157 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
On  the  Way  to  Niagara — Pullman  Cars 161 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
Niagara  Falls 166 

CHAPTER  XX. 
The  Dauphin  Eleazar 169 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
Return  from  Niagara — Sleeping  Cars 172 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
The  Miseries  of  a  Musician 180 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
The  Firemen  of  New  York 187 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
Banquets,  Baton,  and  Brevet 198 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
Farewell  Night 205 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 
Homeward-Bound  . .  207 


BIOGRAPHICAL  INTRODUCTION. 

By  ALBERT  WOLFF. 


To  Madame  HERMESTIE  OFFENBACH  : 

MADAME — Your  husband's  publisher  has  re- 
quested ine  to  write  a  preface  to  this  book, 
which  he  has  dedicated  to  you.  It  was  not 
necessary  that  your  name  should  appear  on  the 
first  page,  for  us  to  be  convinced  that  you  were 
worthy  of  every  proof  of  affection  and  gratitude. 
Whatever  your  husband  writes,  whether  music 
or  words,  belongs  to  you  by  right.  There  is  not 
a  single  one  among  your  innumerable  friends 
but  is  aware  that  you  are  not  only  the  best  of 
wives,  and  the  most  excellent  of  mothers,  but 
that  also,  and  to  a  certain  extent,  you  have  parti- 
cipated in  the  works  signed  by  our  illustrious 
composer. 

The  numerous   productions  of  your  husband 


8  BIOGRAPHICAL   INTRODUCTION. 

may  be  divided  into  two  quite  distinct  parts :  the 
one  is  like  the  echo  of  Parisian  gossip,  Boulevard 
bustle,  and  artistes'  suppers,  when  French  mirth 
and  good  humor  have  been  stimulated  by  spark- 
ling champagne ;  the  other  part  has  nothing  in 
common  with  the  first,  and  is  your  legitimate 
property,  for  it  is  you,  Madame,  who  have 
blessed  this  thoroughly  Parisian  artiste  with  a 
happy  and  genial  home,  where  his  heart  has 
expanded  at  ease  in  the  midst  of  a  charming, 
joyful,  and  spirited  family,  where  he  has  most 
unquestionably  found  the  pathetic  and  more  deli- 
cate tones  of  his  repertory,  which,  in  my  humble 
opinion,  form  the  purest  part  of  his  talent.  This 
is  why  I  think  of  your  husband  when  the  blasts 
of  frolicking  mirth  burst  forth  in  his  music,  and 
I  think  of  you,  Madame,  when  suddenly,  through 
the  jingling  bells  of  folly,  plaintive  melodies 
glide  out  harmoniously,  and  delight  the  ears 
both  of  connoisseur  and  crowd.  Quite  lately, 
Madame,  I  was  staying  a  few  hours  in  the  an- 
cient city  of  Cologne,  and  chanced  to  pass  before 
the  house  where  your  husband  wTas  born.  Jacques 
was  already  a  well-grown  youth,  and  something 


BIOGRAPHICAL   INTRODUCTION.  9 

of  a  virtuoso,  when  I  was  learning  to  read  in  the 
school  adjoining  his  father's  house.  None  better 
than  I  can  tell  you  of  his  start  in  life,  for  the 
Offenbach  family  form  one  of  the  earliest  memo- 
ries of  my  childhood;  I  knew  the  parents  of 
Jacques,  his  brothers  and  his  sisters,  who  cer- 
tainly did  not  at  that  time  suspect  that  the  fair- 
haired  boy,  who  was  so  fond  of  his  violoncello, 
would  become  the  most  popular  musician  of  his 
time,  and  that  the  little  lad,  who  bid  them  good- 
morning  every  day  as  he  went  past,  would  one 
day  write  this  preface. 

The  house  in  which  Jacques  was  born  was 
small.  I  see  it  still,  on  the  right  of  the  court- 
yard, at  the  farthest  end  of  which  my  school  was 
situated.  The  front  door  was  low  and  narrow ; 
the  kitchen,  clean  and  bright,  was  located  under 
the  hall ;  copper  saucepans  hanging  on  the  walls 
in  beautiful  order ;  the  mother  busy  at  her  range ; 
on  the  right,  after  crossing  the  kitchen,  a  sitting- 
room  looking  out  on  the  street.  The  father  re- 
clining in  his  big  arm-chair  near  the  window, 
when  not  engaged  giving  music  lessons ;  he  had  a 

good  voice,  and  played  on  the  violin.    Mr.  Off  en- 
1* 


10  BIOGRAPHICAL   INTRODUCTION. 

bach  was  already  an  elderly  man ;  I  have  pre- 
served a  two-fold  remembrance  of  the  good  man : 
when,  on  leaving  school,  I  made  too  much  noise 
in  the  yard,  he  would  come  out  and  administer 
to  me  a  gentle  correction,  and  on  holidays  he 
would  cram  me  with  cakes,  in  the  making  of 
which  Mother  Offenbach  had  no  rival  in  the  town. 
There  is  no  house  where  I  have  been  oftener 
whipped  and  more  spoilt,  than  in  that  of  your 
late  father-in-law. 

Everybody  in  that  house  was  more  or  less  of  a 
musician,  from  the  father  down  to  the  youngest 
son,  whom  death  carried  off  so  early,  and  who  was 
said  to  be  gifted  with  much  talent.  The  house  in 
the  Rue  de  la  Cloche  had  a  modest  appearance ; 
the  family  was  a  large  one,  and  the  father's 
income  did  not  allow  of  excessive  expenses. 
I  was  often  told  in  my  young  days  that  Father 
Offenbach  had  to  make  the  greatest  sacrifices  to 
enable  his  son  Jacques  to  take  music  lessons. 

I  well  remember  your  husband's  professor, 
whom,  in  my  childhood,  I  used  to  see  sometimes 
in  the  streets,  wearing  a  threadbare  coat  with  brass 
buttons,  the  tails  of  which  reached  down  to  his 


BIOGRAPHICAL   INTRODUCTION.  11 

calves,  a  cane  with  an  ivory  handle,  a  brown  wig, 
and  one  of  those  broad-brimmed  hats  then  in 
fashion.  Despite  his  comparatively  comfortable 
income,  M.  Alexander,  the  professor,  was  gener- 
ally considered  the  greatest  miser  in  the  town. 
It  was  said  that  he  had  once  exhibited  great  tal- 
ent ;  and  he  was  known  in  his  own  neighborhood 
by  the  glorious  name  of  "  the  Artiste."  It  was  of 
him  that  Jacques  took  lessons,  at  the  rate  of 
twenty-five  cents  each.  The  end  of  the  month 
was  generally  a  hard  time  for  the  Offenbach 
family ;  but  they  deprived  themselves  of  many 
little  comforts  in  order  to  economize  the  price  of 
the  lessons,  for  Herr  Alexander  did  not  trifle 
with  such  matters ;  the  twenty-five  cents  had  to 
be  spread  on  the  table  before  the  beginning  of 
the  lesson.  No  money,  no  music ! 

This  earliest  and  most  accurate  impression 
which  1  have  preserved  of  Jacques'  youth,  coin- 
cides with  the  first  visit  he  paid  his  parents  on 
returning  from  Paris.  It  was  an  event  for  all 
the  friends  of  the  family,  where,  for  a  long  time 
past,  nothing  had  been  talked  of  except  Jacques, 
who,  it  was  currently  reported,  was  coining  mil- 


12  BIOGRAPHICAL   INTRODUCTION. 

lions  in  Paris  by  playing  on  the  violoncello. 
Nobody  in  Cologne  suspected  that  the  father 
of  Offenbach's  son  earned  his  scanty  living  with 
great  difficulty  on  the  banks  of  the  Seine.  The 
mere  fact  that  he  was  listened  to  in  Paris,  the 
city  of  artists  and  rich  people,  no  one  ever 
doubted  but  what  Jacques  must  be  a  millionnaire. 
It  was  said  in  the  town :  "  Father  Offenbach  is  a 
lucky  man ;  it  appears  that  his  son  is  coming 
back  with  big  diamonds  instead  of  buttons  in  his 
waistcoat,  and  that  his  fortune  is  reckoned  by 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  francs." 

It  was  not  this  which  drew  me  to  the  Offen- 
bachs'.  In  our  youth  we  have  but  a  very  vague 
idea  of  wealth;  a  ten-cent  piece  or  the  vaults 
of  the  Bank  of  France  seem  about  alike  ;  but 
if,  in  the  evening,  at  the  hour  at  which  Jacques 
was  expected,  I  found  myself  among  the  friends 
of  the  house,  it  was  because  on  the  morning  of 
the  same  day  I  had  smelt  the  savory  perfume 
of  those  famous  cakes ;  I  had  been  struck  with 
astonishment  at  this  extraordinary  occurrence,  for 
it  was  not  the  eve  of  a  holiday.  But,  in  reply  to 
my  eager  inquiries,  Mother  Offenbach  had  re- 


BIOGRAPHIC  A.L   INTRODUCTION.  13 

plied :  "  This  is  a  fete-day  for  us  all,  my  boy ; 
my  son  Jacques  comes  back  this  evening  from 
Paris.  Come  in  by  and  by,  and  have  some  cakes ; 
I  can  tell  you  that  I  have  spared  neither  eggs, 
nor  butter,  nor  sugar." 

When  about  sun-down  I  crossed  the  threshold 
of  the  house,  in  the  Rue  de  la  Cloche,  Jacques,  who 
was  sitting  on  the  sofa  by  the  side  of  his  father, 
whilst  his  mother  was  getting  supper  ready  for  the 
beloved  son — Jacques,  I  repeat,  was  for  me  but 
an  object  of  the  greatest  curiosity.  But  my  heart 
beat  faster  as  I  caught  sight  of  a  bottle  of  Rhein- 
wine  standing  on  the  white  table-cloth  between 
two  dishes  filled  with  delicacies,  the  whole  spark- 
ling under  the  light  of  a  small  brass  chandelier, 
which  was  only  lighted  on  great  occasions.  At 
that  moment  there  was  not  in  the  town  a  happier 
house  than  this.  Relatives  and  friends  came  in 
one  after  another,  to  welcome  Jacques;  and 
each  time  a  fresh  visitor  came  in,  the  dishes 
were  sent  around,  and  each  time  I  helped  myself 
to  some  fresh  delicacy,  so  that,  as  a  natural  con- 
sequence, a  formidable  fit  of  indigestion  nailed 
me  for  a  week  to  my  bed ;  but  I  bear  no  grudge 


14  BIOGRAPHICAL    INTRODUCTION. 

to  your  husband  for  all  that,  believe  me,  Ma- 
dame ! 

I  am  quite  sure  that  I  did  not  then  realize  the 
influence  which  this  visit  was  destined  to  have 
on  my  future  life  ;  but  I  think  that  it  was  then  I 
unwittingly  conceived  the  idea  of  going  later 
to  Paris,  like  young  Offenbach,  and  of  coming 
back,  like  him,  to  my  family,  made  much  of  by 
everybody,  and,  in  the  absence  of  my  father, 
whom  I  had  hardly  known,  I  beheld  myself,  in 
the  distant  future,  sitting  by  the  side  of  my 
mother,  who  looked  as  happy  as  Mother  Offen- 
bach. I  could  see  the  table  groaning  under 
the  weight  of  cakes,  and  the  rapture  of  my 
mother,  as  proud  of  her  son  as  Mother  Offen- 
bach of  hers.  Alas  !  this  greatest  of  joys,  dream 
of  my  boyhood,  I  was  never  able  to  give 
to  my  poor  mother,  who  died  young,  and  who 
was  also  an  excellent  woman,  like  yourself,  Ma- 
dame. 

If  I  dwell  on  this  reminiscence  of  my  youth, 
puerile  to  the  indifferent,  but  which  so  greatly 
affects  me  when  my  thoughts  travel  back  to 
those  happy  days,  it  is  that  you  may  know, 


BIOGRAPHICAL   INTRODUCTION.  15 

Madame,  how  Jacques'  career  became  in  some 
way  closely  connected  with  mine. 

Later,  when  I  came  to  Paris,  and  the  Figaro 
consented  to  harbor  my  early  efforts,  the  first 
person  whom  I  met  in  the  office  of  that  journal 
was  Jacques,  and  it  was  then  that  I  began  to 
reflect  on  that  mysterious  destiny  which  brings 
about  the  realization  of  a  boyish  dream,  twenty 
years  later,  in  the  presence  of  the  very  man  who 
first  directed  his  mind  towards  the  great  city. 

At  this  time  Jacques  was  already  a  great  man ; 
he  was  no  longer  merely  the  talented  violoncellist 
of  former  days ;  he  had  long  since  abandoned 
the  little  stage  in  the  Champs  Elysees,  which  was 
the  cradle  of  his  fame.  The  Bouffes  Theatre  was 
giving  every  night  that  Orphee  aux  Enfers, 
which  has  gone  around  the  civilized  world,  and 
has  contributed  so  much  to  establish  his  popular- 
ity. I  had  introduced  myself  to  the  celebrated 
composer,  and  he  had  deigned  to  put  my  name 
on  the  free  list  at  the  Bouffes.  But  the  house 
was  crowded  every  evening ;  my  ticket  really  ad- 
mitted me  no  farther  than  the  lobby,  and  it  was 
through  the  glass  window  of  a  box  door  that  I 


16  BIOGEAPHICAL   INTRODUCTION. 

saw  the  piece  and  heard  the  music.  Now, 
Madame,  that  I  have  the  honor  of  being  your 
friend,  and  that  I  have  the  conviction  of  being 
sufficiently  near  your  heart  to  be  able  to  speak  to 
you  of  my  troubles,  and  my  joys,  you  will  allow 
me  doubtless  to  say  that  the  snccess  of  OrpJiee  is 
in  some  degree  the  starting-point  of  this  preface. 
At  that  time  1  was  poor,  and  blushed  when  the 
usher  rushed  forward  to  take  my  overcoat.  AVhat 
could  I  do  ?  I  was  obliged  to  be  economical  in 
order  to  breakfast  the  next  day  ;  everybody  has 
not  the  means  of  giving  ten  cents  to  an  usher. 
Bnt  when,  sad  and  desperate,  I  walked  the  streets 
of  Paris,  gazing  curiously  at  the  stars,  wondering 
what  the  future  had  in  store  for  me,  and  gliding 
along  close  to  the  walls  of  the  houses  in  order 
that  those  whom  I  met  might  not  see  my  weak- 
ness, I  always  ended  by  finding  myself  at  the 
Bouffes ;  I  heard  the  applause  of  the  public ;  I 
thought  of  the  young  Offenbach,  who  started  so 
low  in  the  social  ladder,  and  who  had  raised  him- 
self so  high ;  and  I  went  home  with  a  comforted 
mind  and  a  better  heart ;  I  measured  the  dis- 
tance between  Father  Offenbach's  little  house  and 


BIOGRAPHICAL   INTRODUCTION.  17 

that  brilliant  house  where  the  public  hailed  so 
lustily  your  husband's  music ;  and  I  thought  with- 
in myself  that,  with  some  talent,  a  great  deal  of 
energy,  and  an  enormous  amount  of  work,  I  should 
never  find  myself  under  the  necessity  of  return- 
ing to  Cologne. 

You  see,  Madame,  that  fate  has  taken  pity  on 
my  anguish,  since  I  have  the  good  fortune  to 
write  you  from  Paris,  where  I  have  suffered  so 
much,  but  to  which  I  owe  the  little  that  I  am, 
and  which  I  love  so  much,  that  it  seems  impossi- 
ble to  me  I  could  have  been  born  elsewhere,  just 
as  it  appears  to  me  unaccountable  that  the  incar- 
nation of  Parisian  wit  in  music — that  is,  your 
husband — should  be  the  same  Jacques  I  once  saw 
sitting  by  the  side  of  his  father  in  the  little 
house  in  the  Rue  de  la  Cloche,  at  Cologne. 

If  I  speak  so  much  of  myself,  Madame,  it  is 
not  to  attempt  to  move  your  feelings  on  the  sub- 
ject of  my  past  life,  but  to  draw  your  attention 
to  the  strange  coincidences  of  this  life.  As  I 
have  had  the  honor  of  telling  you :  I  strayed  the 
last  time  I  travelled  into  the  Rue  de  la  Cloche, 
where  your  husband  was  born,  and  all  these 


18  BIOGRAPHICAL   INTRODUCTION. 

memories  of  former  days  came  back  to  my  mind. 
And  I  had  hardly  set  foot  again  on  the  Paris 
pavement,  before  I  learned  that  Jacques  was 
about  to  publish  a  book  on  America.  My  good 
friend,  Calmann  Levy,  asked  me  to  write  him,  not 
a  preface,  but  a  few  biographical  notes  on 
Jacques  Offenbach.  This  will  explain  to  you 
why  I  have  been  compelled  to  associate  my 
name,  which  is  simply  a  known  one,  with  that  of 
your  husband,  which  is  a  famous  one. 

The  old  house  in  the  Rue  de  la  Cloche  has 
ceased  to  exist,  Madame.  On  the  site  where  it 
formerly  stood,  a  dazzling  monument  has  been, 
reared.  Fair  Jacques  and  the  cottage  of  his 
ancestors  have  shared  the  same  fate  ;  they  have 
both  grown  with  time.  The  violoncello  with 
which  Jacques  obtained  his  first  successes  was 
laid  aside  at  the  same  time  that  the  paternal 
cottage  was  pulled  down.  Jacques  also  is  now 
a  moving  monument  of  Parisian  music ;  and,  if  I 
use  this  term,  it  is  not  with  a  view  of  diminishing 
its  value,  but  to  indicate  its  leading  character- 
istics— the  wit  and  good  humor  of  the  great  city 
in  its  moments  of  explosive  mirth. 


BIOGRAPHICAL   INTRODUCTION.  19 

Here  and  there,  with  this  eminently  Parisian 
talent,  you  find  mingled  something  like  a  pious 
reminiscence  of  the  old  home  at  Cologne.  I  do 
not  think  that  Jacques  is  capable  of  looking  long 
upon  the  humble  portrait  of  his  father,  hung 
above  his  piano,  without  being  moved  by  the 
memory  of  those  happy  days.  In  his  hours  of 
meditation,  his  thoughts  must  dwell  on  the  old 
songs  of  his  youth,  and  it  is  then  that  he  drops 
upon  paper  those  sweet  and  serene  melodies 
which,  to  the  utter  astonishment  of  the  public, 
suddenly  appear  in  his  works,  and  produce  the 
unforeseen  effect  of  a  young  girl,  chaste  and 
innocent,  who,  in  the  radiant  simplicity  of  her 
beauty,  clad  in  white,  and  with  a  single  flower 
in  her  bosom,  appears  in  the  midst  of  a  masked 
ball,  where  folly  reigns  supreme. 

And  it  is  precisely  this  sudden  apparition  of 
what  I  would  term  the  homely  muse  of  your 
husband  which  places  his  work  far  above  the 
noisier  part,  which,  by  way  of  antithesis,  might  be 
called  the  muse  of  the  boulevards.  But  this  is 
also  the  secret  of  the  marked  success  obtained  by 
Jacques  ;  his  inexhaustible  repertory  is  a  combi- 


20  BIOGRAPHICAL   INTEODUCTION. 

nation  of  every  kind  of  sentiment ;  the  spirited 
strains  that  take  the  house  by  storm ;  the  bluff 
laugh  that  pleases  some ;  the  Parisian  wit  that 
bewitches  others;  and  the  pathetic  touch  that 
makes  all  the  world  akin,  because  it  springs  from 
the  heart  and  goes  straight  to  the  soul.  Therein 
lies  the  secret  of  his  brilliant  successes  and  of 
that  popularity  which  must  have  been  witnessed 
at  home  in  order  to  realize  its  extent.  Nothing 
has  been  wanting  to  his  long-lived  triumph  in  a 
branch  of  art  which  people  persist  in  calling 
small ;  but  in  the  way  of  art,  Madame,  nothing 
is  small.  The  Song  of  Fortunio  is  not  written 
in  five  acts,  and  does  not  require  the  vast  stage  of 
the  Opera ;  yet  it  is  the  complete  gem  of  a  com- 
poser in  love  with  his  art.  The  Brigands  com- 
prise exquisite  passages  which  the  big  boots  of 
the  carabineers,  imagined  to  please  the  crowd,  are 
not  able  to  stifle  under  the  weight  of  their  heavy 
tread.  The  Sabre  de  mon  Pere  may  be  called  in 
question,  despite  its  loud  success ;  but  the  most 
hardened  purist  in  musical  matters  cannot  deny 
that  the  Dites  lui,  in  the  Duchesse  de  Gerolstein, 
is  a  genuine  pearl.  Your  husband's  works, 


BIOGRAPHICAL   INTRODUCTION.  21 

Madame,  swarm  with  such  graceful  and  pathetic 
melodies ;  and  it  is  surely  on  that  account  that  he 
remains  the  colonel  of  the  regiment  of  composers 
who  have  followed  in  the  path  marked  out  by 
Jacques. 

I  do  not  mean  to  imply  by  the  above,  Madame, 
that,  outside  of  Jacques,  opera  bouffe  does  not 
exist.  You  are  too  intelligent  to  think  that  your 
husband  has  done  all  that  can  be  imagined  in 
the  line  he  has  created ;  he  has  given  it  a  fair 
start,  and  that  is  a  great  deal ;  for  a  man  can 
only  be  reckoned  an  artiste  on  condition  of 
giving  a  personality  to  his  art ;  and  the  art  of 
Jacques  is  essentially  the  art  of  Jacques.  Whether 
it  be  a  more  or  less  great  art  is  not  the  question. 
In  order  to  judge  an  artiste,  it  must  be  first  as- 
certained whether  his  art  is  really  his  own,  or 
whether  he  has  learnt  and  borrowed  it  of  others. 
It  is  said  of  some  that  they  have  brought  this 
style  to  life  again";  of  others  that  they  resemble 
that  man ;  but  the  whole  is  covered  by  the  general 
expression :  "  Offenbach  style,"  which  is  in 
everybody's  mouth,  and  which  gives  your  husband 
a  share  in  the  very  success  of  his  followers. 


22  BIOGRAPHICAL   INTRODUCTION. 

In  Jacques'  long  career  all  has  not  been  tri- 
umph and  good  luck;  he  has  had  to  struggle, 
like  everybody  else.  When  a  brain  is  full  of 
such  joyous  and  charming  melodies,  and  its 
owner  is  obliged  to  act  as  leader  to  the  orchestra 
of  the  Theatre  Frangais  between  the  two  acts  of 
a  tragedy,  he  is  entitled  to  a  place  in  the  ranks 
of  celebrated  martyrs.  Is  it  possible  to  conceive 
a  more  cruel  torture  than  that  of  a  richly  en- 
dowed mind  condemned  to  devote  its  energy  to 
so  humble  and  ungracious  a  task?  Artistes 
are  sometimes  reproached  with  having  an  exces- 
sive veneration  for  their  own  talent ;  but  what 
would  they  do  without  that  faith  in  themselves 
which  sustains  them  in  the  hour  of  trial  ?  Is  it 
possible  to  blame  a  man  of  talent,  condemned  to 
lead  a  wretched  orchestra,  with  blowing  his  own 
trumpet,  in  order  to  keep  alive  the  illusions  which 
save  him.  from  the  fatal  consequences  of  a  faint 
and  sad  heart. 

Henri  Heine,  who  had  known  every  kind  of 
suffering,  wrote  the  following  terrible  truth : 

"  Adversity  is  a  hideous  old  witch.  She  is  not 
satisfied  with  paying  us  one  visit ;  she  sits  by  our 


BIOGRAPHICAL   INTRODUCTION.  23 

bed,  settles  herself  there  with  her  work-box,  and 
takes  out  her  knitting  like  a  person  who  intends 
making  herself  at  home  for  some  time  !  " 

Well,  Madame,  in  presence  of  this  weird 
visitor,  the  artiste  can  only  keep  himself  going  by 
the  consciousness  of  his  value,  and  if,  in  the 
hour  of  triumph,  painfully  achieved,  the  mind, 
rid  of  this  abominable  nightmare,  gives  vent  to  a 
shout  of  joy,  and  chants  a  hymn  to  its  own  glory, 
who  would  dare  to  reproach  it  with  an  excess  of 
pride,  so  dearly  bought  at  the  price  of  so  much 
discouragement  ? 

If  anybody  has  the  right  to  be  proud  of  his 
success,  it  is  surely  your  husband,  Madame. 
You  who  have  assisted  him  in  this  terrible 
struggle  against  fate,  you  know  better  than  I 
what  amount  of  courage  and  energy  was  re- 
quired to  overcome,  one  after  the  other,  all  the 
obstacles  in  his  path.  If  Jacques  has  drunk 
deeply  the  cup  of  success,  he  began  by  making 
the  acquaintances  of  all  the  miseries  of  adversity. 
Unable  to  find  anybody  to  play  his  music,  he 
was  obliged  to  rent  a  theatre  of  his  own,  in 
order  to  place  his  own  pieces  on  the  stage ;  and 


2-i  BIOGRAPHICAL   INTRODUCTION. 

when  at  last  he  contrived  to  open  a  small  house 
in  the  Champs  Elyse'es,  and  he  might  consider 
himself  as  having  reached  the  goal  of  his  ambi 
tion,  the  administration  came  down  upon  him 
with  its  shackles  of  red  tape,  and  compelled  him 
to  restrict  his  intelligence  to  the  narrow  frame 
of  pieces  with  only  three  characters.  He  was 
obliged  to  conquer  step  by  step  the  ground  on 
which  he  has  erected  the  monument  of  his  repu- 
tation, and  1  am  not  sure  that  without  your 
encouragement  and  your  attentions  your  hus- 
band would  have  finally  triumphed.  I  am 
therefore  right  in  saying,  Madame,  that  you 
have  participated  in  his  works,  and  that  this 
book  belongs  to  you  by  right  as  much  as  the 
Maestro's  scores. 

I  know,  Madame,  that,  in  the  course  of 
Jacques'  long  and  active  career,  success  has  not 
always  been  spontaneous,  and  the  public  has  often 
been  unjust  towards  your  husband.  I  persist,  for 
instance,  in  considering  the  JBergers  as  one  of  his 
best  scores,  although  it  was  not  played  hundreds  of 
nights.  It  is  also  quite  natural  that  amid  so  many 
triumphs,  like  the  Mariage  aux  Lanternes,  la 


BIOGRAPHICAL   INTRODUCTION.  25 

Belle  Helene,  la  Grande  Duchesse,  la  Vie  Parisi- 
enne,  les  Jfrigands,  and  a  hundred  other  plays 
whose  titles  it  is  needless  to  enumerate,  his  talent 
should  have  been  at  times  unequal.  But  in  art, 
whether  small  or  great,  it  is  only  mediocrity 
which  has  the  privilege  of  being  always  at  the 
same  level  of  sufficient  insufficiency.  Investigat- 
ing minds,  ever  anxious  and  agitated,  do  not 
know  the  never-disturbed  joys  of  permanent 
satisfaction  ;  they  are  one  day  at  the  summit  and 
the  next,  if  not  at  the  bottom,  at  least  at  the 
middle  of  the  ladder.  Inspiration  has  its  good 
and  evil  hours ;  the  artiste  lives  on  fits  of  elation 
and  despair.  It  may  be  said  that  in  Jacques' 
colossal  repertory  a  few  operettas  are  of  com- 
paratively small  value,  but  of  not  one  can  it  be 
said  that  it  is  worthless.  In  his  least-prized 
works  there  is  always  to  be  found  considerable 
talent  and  unquestionable  individuality.  It  is 
always,  and  despite  everything,  an  art  which  be- 
longs to  him  personally,  and  a  few  distant  chords 
suffice  to  leave  no  doubt  as  to  the  author.  He  is 
as  easily  recognized  as  a  flower  at  night  by  its 

peculiar  fragrance. 
2 


26  BIOGRAPHICAL   INTRODUCTION. 

Nothing,  Madame,  has  been  wanting  to  com- 
plete the  success  of  your  husband.  To  the  ap- 
plause of  the  public  in  every  country  there  has 
been  added  the  disparagement  of  a  few.  But  the 
last  have  never  been  able  to  stem  the  torrent  of  his 
success.  Jacques  has,  for  instance,  been  reproached 
with  having,  under  another  regime,  contributed 
towards  what  was  called  the  demoralization  of  the 
people — an  empty  and  confused  term,  which  looks 
as  if  it  meant  something,  but  which  really  specifies 
nothing — like  all  the  nonsense  talked  by  people 
who  wish  to  give  themselves  an  air  of  importance ; 
this  category  of  silly  detractors  has  a  whole  as- 
sortment of  old  sores.  As  for  myself,  every  time 
I  meet  a  man  who  says  to  me :  Tu  quoqiie 
Brutus?  or  Quousque  tandem  abutere  patientia 
nostra  f  I  fight  shy  of  him,  for  he  is  on  the 
point  of  singing  the  eternal  romance  of  the 
demoralization  of  the  people  by  a  theatrical 
piece. 

It  cannot,  however,  he  denied,  Madame,  that 
part  of  your  husband's  work  is  a  fair  reflex  of 
the  period  in  which  it  was  conceived,  and  it  is 
moreover  on  that  very  account  that  Jacques' 


BIOGRAPHICAL   INTRODUCTION.  27 

talent  lias  its  place  marked  in  the  history  of  this 
century.  Indeed,  in  his  greatest  successes,  of  some 
twelve  or  fifteen  years  ago,  there  is  still  evident 
the  Paris  of  those  days — the  merry,  careless  Paris, 
the  Paris  that  loves  to  laugh,  dance,  and,  in  a 
word,  to  amuse  itself.  But  how  could  he  have 
become  an  artiste  of  his  time,  if  he  had  not  felt 
the  commotions  of  his  time  ?  A  man  must  belong 
to  his  age,  in  every  branch  of  art,  without  excep- 
tion. Such  was  Carpeaux ;  and  for  this  very  reason 
he  has  proved  superior  to  all  the  sculptors  who 
looked  but  on  the  past.  What  is  it  that  endears 
to  us  the  artistes  of  former  times,  whose  work  was 
modelled  after  the  ideas  of  the  period  ?  Teniers, 
for  instance,  in  the  picture  of  a  merry  beer-drinker 
of  his  day,  can  much  more  rightly  claim  the 
name  of  historical  painter  than  those  of  our  con- 
temporaries, who  twice  a  week  begin  over  again, 
Caesar  before  the  Rubicon,  or  else  the  Battle 
of  Pharsalia.  If,  then,  Jacques  has  really  been 
the  musician  of  his  period,  he  has  fulfilled  his 
task,  and  more  attention  will  be  paid  to  his  work 
than  to  the  sterile  efforts  of  those  who  have  never 
done  anything  else  than  emulate  what  existed  be- 


28  BIOGEAPHICAL   INTRODUCTION. 

fore  they  came  into  the  world,  and  have  worn 
out  on  the  pavement  of  the  boulevards  what 
remained  of  the  old  shoes  of  the  preceding  gen- 
eration. 

And  that  is  why  the  name  of  Jacques  Offen- 
bach is  one  of  the  most  popular  of  the  time  and 
his  talent  has  delighted  the  great  majority  of  the 
public.  When  a  work  pleases  at  once  connois- 
seurs and  the  crowd,  its  value  is  beyond  dispute. 
Jacques  is  a  modern  man  ;  his  music  has  le  diable 
au  corps,  like  our  busy  century,  rushing  on  under 
full  head  of  steam.  The  finale  of  the  first  act 
of  the  Brigands  could  never  have  been  conceiv- 
ed in  the  days  when  chaise  and  coach  were 
the  only  means  of  locomotion.  It  is  genuine 
nineteenth  century  music  ;  the  music  of  express- 
trains  and  screw-steamers — in  a  word,  of  the  dia- 
bolical bustle  of  our  time ;  and  this  is  why  it  is 
popular,  not  only  in  France,  where  Jacques' 
talent  has  grown  up  and  to  which  the  composer 
belongs,  but  in  every  country ;  and  1  do  not 
think  there  exists  a  musician  more  truly  popu- 
lar than  your  husband ;  and  very  certainly  he 
will  leave  his  children  a  name  which  will  act 


BIOGRAPHICAL   INTRODUCTION.  29 

for  them  as  a  passport  in  the  four  corners  of  the 
globe. 

Suppose,  Madame,  that,  some  ten  years  hence, 
your  young  son  should  take  it  into  his  head  to 
travel  about  the  world.  One  fine  day — do  not 
be  frightened,  Madame ;  this  is  only  a  supposition 
— one  fine  day  he  falls  into  the  hands  of  can- 
nibals : 

"  Ah  ! "  says  the  chief,  "  here  is  a  young  pale- 
face, who  would  be  very  good  eating  with  a  bit 
of  salad." 

Then  addressing  his  victim,  he  says  : 
"  What  is  thy  name,  savory  stranger  ? " 
"  I  am  the  son  of  Jacques  Offenbach." 
"  Cheer  up,  young  man ;   thou  wilt  not    be 
eaten  ! "  exclaims  the  chief.     "  And  now  let  the 
fun  begin  ! "  and  immediately  young  Offenbach 
is  hoisted  onto  a  throne,  the  savages  strike  up  the 
finale  of  Orphee  in  token  of  their  joy,  and  it  only 
depends  on  your  son's  inclination  for  him  to  be- 
come at  once  king  of  something  or  other,  for  all 
the  world  like  Orelius,  the  Perigueux  attorney.* 
This  is  what  ought  to  give  you  good  hope  for  the 

*  Orelie  Antoine  I. ,  King  of  Auricania. 


30  BIOGRAPHICAL   INTRODUCTION. 

future,  Madame.  I  have  never  paid  a  visit  to 
the  savages,  but  I  am  an  incorrigible  touriste. 
In  all  the  countries  where  I  have  travelled  the 
name  of  Jacques  Offenbach  is  equally  cele- 
brated ;  and,  believe  me,  a  man  who  captivates 
to  this  extent  the  attention  of  his  contemporaries 
is  a  man  of  worth,  and  it  may  be  said  of  him 
that  if  ever  in  the  future  his  talent  should  decay, 
what  he  has  already  produced  has  such  a  solid 
foundation  that  I  defy  Jacques  ever  to  ruin  his 
own  reputation.  Despite  all  criticism  —  and 
everybody  has  the  right  to  criticise — there  is 
one  point  upon  which  all  are  of  the  same  way  of 
thinking,  namely,  that  his  talent  is  unquestion- 
able. Some  have  called  him  a  vulgarizer ;  but 
this  word,  which,  in  the  mouth  of  your  husband's 
enemies,  would  imply  censure,  is  the  greatest 
praise  which  he  could  covet.  It  is  not  easy  to 
vulgarize  an  art ;  that  is  to  render  the  charm  and 
seduction  of  music  accessible  to  the  refractory 
brains. 

At  this  moment,  Madame,  your  husband  is 
about  to  make  his  first  appearance  in  the  field  of 
literature.  Nobody  ever  knows  what  will  be  the 


BIOGRAPHICAL   INTRODUCTION.  31 

fate  of  a  book  ;  and  I  do  not  think  that  the  pub- 
lisher, in  asking  me  for  a  preface,  had  the  inten- 
tion of  setting  me  to  study  Offenbach  as  a  writer 
of  prose.  This  will  explain  why  in  this  preface  I 
have  spoken  to  you  of  everything  except  of  this 
book.  The  certain  success  of  the  work  will  be 
found  on  the  title-page,  which  bears  the  popular 
name  of  the  author.  A  little  more  or  a  little 
less  literary  merit  would  add  nothing  to  Jacques' 
reputation  as  a  musician,  and  would  in  no  way 
diminish  his  reputation  as  a  man  of  wit ;  but  I 
should  not  be  surprised  if  this  literary  fancy  of  a 
composer  of  great  talent  proved  a  great  success 
as  a  selling  book.  All  those  who  owe  so  many 
pleasant  evenings  to  Jacques  must  be  curious  to 
know  how  he  writes ;  they  will  find  in  the  narra- 
tive of  his  travels  in  America  the  same  cheerful 
ease,  and  the  same  spontaneous  wit  which  they 
have  been  accustomed  to  find  in  his  scores.  Be- 
sides, I  do  not  think  that  in  writing  these  pages 
your  husband  had  the  intention  of  overthrowing 
the  statue  of  Christopher  Columbus  and  of  pla- 
cing himself  in  its  stead  on  the  quay  of  Geneva. 
Jacques  cannot  precisely  be  said  to  have  dis- 


32  BIOGRAPHICAL   INTRODUCTION. 

covered  America,  but  he  contributes  a  few  per- 
sonal ideas  to  all  that  has  been  written  on  the 
New  World. 

You,  dear  Madame,  who  are  one  of  the  most 
distinguished  women  I  have  met,  you  would  not 
forgive  me  were  I  to  say  more.  Your  tact  is  so 
sure  in  all  these  things  that  I  should  surely  lose 
your  esteem  if  I  were  to  state  that  French  litera- 
ture has  just  been  enriched  with  a  glorious  mon- 
ument. Moreover,  it  is  not  with  the  view  of 
such  a  high  destiny  that  Offenbach  has  jotted 
down  in  black  and  white  his  travelling  impres- 
sions. It  may  be  that  the  wind  shall  one  of  these 
days  blow  these  light  leaves  away,  but  what  is 
very  sure  is,  that  you  and  your  children  will  keep 
them  lovingly  as  a  souvenir  of  that  distant  voy- 
age undertaken  by  an  artiste  in  weak  health, 
under  altogether  special  circumstances — not  to 
seek  fresh  laurels,  with  which  he  could  well  dis- 
pense, but  in  order  to  fulfill  the  duty  of  an  hon- 
orable man  and  of  a  family  chief  truly  worthy 
of  the  name. 

This  book,  Madame,  will  console  you  when 
you  think  of  the  sad  days  you  spent  during  his 


BIOGKAPHICAL   INTRODUCTION.  33 

long  absence.  Joy  has  returned  to  your  house, 
for  a  time  so  silent  and  sad.  I  avail  myself  of 
this  favorable  disposition  to  ask  you  to  excuse 
me  if  I  have  placed  your  name  at  the  head  of 
this  preface  without  asking  your  leave.  It  has 
afforded  me  great  satisfaction  to  address  these 
lines  to  you  in  acknowledgment  of  the  valued 
friendship  with  which  you  honor  me.  In  this 
skeptical  and  busy  city  you  have  created  a  really 
artistic  drawing-room,  which  is  one  of  the  curiosi- 
ties of  Paris,  and  at  the  same  time  a  place  of  re- 
laxation for  those  friends  who,  wearied  by  the 
feverish  Parisian  life,  come  to  breathe  at  their 
ease  the  sweet  and  serene  atmosphere  of  family 
life,  honorable,  laborious,  and  respected.  In  this 
charming  home  it  is  quite  natural  that  your  hus- 
band should  have  developed  the  more  salient 
qualities  of  his  talent :  Wit  and  Elegance. 

PAKIS,  January,  1877. 
2* 


CHAPTER     I. 

BEFORE?  LEAVING. 

TOWARDS  the  end  of  the  spring  of  1875  I  was 
occupying  with  my  family  one  of  the  three 
large  pavilions  on  the  terrace  of  St.  Germain. 
I  am  extremely  fond  of  this  admirable  spot,  and 
I  had  sought  refuge  there  in  the  very  pardonable 
hope  of  enjoying  the  rest  which  had  become 
necessary  after  a  most  laborious  winter. 

My  door  had  been  closed  against  all  strangers, 
and,  above  all,  against  all  those  who  had  a  near 
or  remote  connection  with  theatrical  affairs. 
Twenty  years  of  work  and  struggle  seemed  to 
me  sufficient  to  justify  this  harsh,  but,  you  will 
admit,  just  measure. 

I  was  thus  living  quietly  in  the  midst  of  my 
family — a  very  numerous  one — and  of  my  in- 


36  OFFENBACH   m  AMEKICA. 

timate  friends.  It  was  not  absolute  solitude,  but 
it  was  at  least  peace  and  quiet. 

One  morning,  while  I  was  playing  in  the  gar- 
den with  one  of  my  children,  Mademoiselle 
Schneider's  visit  was  announced.  I  had  not  the 
heart  to  order  the  rules  enforced  against  her ;  I 
have  much  friendship  for  the  Grande  Duchesse 
de  Gerolstein,  and,  when  I  meet  her,  it  always 
seems  to  me  as  if  I  saw  my  successes  walking 
about. 

We  were  chatting  of  everything  and  of  noth- 
ing— of  the  great  battles  we  had  fought  together 
before  the  footlights — and,  why  should  I  not  say 
it,  of  our  past  victories,  and  perhaps  also  of  the 
battles  to  come — when  I  was  handed  a  card,  on 
which  I  read  a  name  completely  unknown  to  me. 

I  was  aboiit  scolding  my  servant,  when  the 
owner  of  the  card  made  his  appearance  in  per- 
son. He  was  a  very  correct  and  polite-looking 
gentleman ;  but  I  saw  at  once  I  had  to  deal  with 
a  man  going  straight  to  the  point,  and  that,  will- 
ing or  not,  I  should  be  obliged  to  hear  what  he 
had  to  say  ;  so  1  submitted  to  my  fate. 

"  Pray,  sir,"  he  said  to  me,  "  excuse  this  intru- 


BEFORE   LEAVING.  37 

sion  upon  your  privacy,  but  I  have  come  to  see 
you  on  important  business  ;  I  will  not  detain  you 
long,  for  you  will  only  have  to  answer  yes  or 
no." 

"  1  am  listening,  sir." 

"  I  am  commissioned,  sir,  to  ask  you  whether 
you  would  like  to  go  to  America  ?  " 

I  was  so  little  prepared  for  such  a  formidable 
proposition,  that  I  could  not  help  laughing  right 
out. 

"  Let  me  assure  you,  sir,"  I  said  to  my  visitor, 
"  that  even  for  a  large  sum  of  money  I  would  not 
go  to  St.  Cloud  to-day." 

"I  am  not  speaking  of  St.  Cloud,  or  of  to-day, 
sir.  The  simple  question  is,  will  you  go  to  the 
Philadelphia  Exhibition  next  spring  ?  " 

"  To  Philadelphia !  and,  pray,  for  what  pur- 
pose ? " 

"  Americans,  sir,  are  very  partial  to  great  art- 
istes ;  they  welcome  them  magnificently,  and  pay 
them  in  the  same  style." 

"  Well,  sir,  I  must  confess  that  your  proposal 
is  a  serious  and  very  flattering  one,  and  that  at 
any  rate  it  seems  well  worthy  of  consideration." 


38  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

"  Oh !  sir,  I  never  expected  that  you  would 
decide  on  the  spot.  Take  your  own  time.  I  have 
but  a  very  simple  mission  to  fulfil — to  know 
whether  you  would  like  to  go  to  Philadelphia. 
If  you  give  me  a  favorable  reply,  the  interested 
parties  will  come  and  confer  with  you ;  if  not,  I 
shall  only  regret  having  intruded  upon  you, 
while  not  forgetting  the  honor  you  have  done 
me,  in  deigning  to  listen  to  what  I  had  to  say." 

I  remained  silent  for  a  moment :  a  thousand 
thoughts  coursed  through  my  brain.  Those  who 
have  families,  and  who  are  conscious  of  their 
duty,  will  understand  without  explanation  what 
these  thoughts  were ;  as  for  others,  they  would 
not  understand  them  even  with  a  lengthy  ex- 
planation. 

At  last  I  replied : 

"  Well,  sir,  I  cannot  say  that  I  would  like  to 
go  to  America,  because,  irrespective  of  my  fifty 
years  of  age,  there  are  many  things  which  detain 
me  here ;  however,  in  due  time,  and  under  such 
conditions  as  you  lead  me  to  expect,  I  should  not 
hesitate  to  go." 

My  visitor  bowed. 


BEFORE  LEAVING.  39 

"  This  is  all  I  wish  to  ascertain,"  he  said. 

During  breakfast  I  spoke  of  the  visit  I  had 
just  received  ;  but  although  my  tale  was  told  in 
the  most  jovial  tone  possible,  it  met  with  no  suc- 
cess whatever. 

"  It  is  madness ! "  was  the  general  outcry. 

I  hastened  to  demonstrate  that  the  affair  was 
in  no  wise  to  be  taken  in  earnest ;  I  even  offered 
to  bet  that  I  should  never  hear  any  more  of  it. 
But  a  cloud  had  settled  over  the  minds  of  all,  my 
own  included,  and  there  it  remained  for  the  rest 
of  the  season.  How  little  it  takes  to  sadden, 
happy  days,  and  what  folly  it  is  to  leave  the 
front  door  open ! 

The  very  next  day  I  received  the  visit  of  M. 
Bacquero,  who  had  hastened  to  write  as  soon  as 
he  had  heard  of  my  decision. 

M.  Bacquero  is  a  business  man  in  the  best 
meaning  of  the  term ;  his  offer  was  such  that  I 
did  not  think  myself  justified  in  hesitating  an 
instant,  and  I  at  once  signed  the  engagement 
which  he  tendered  me. 

On  that  day  it  was  needless  for  me  to  relate 
what  had  occurred ;  my  family  had  guessed  the 


40  OFFENBACH   m   AMERICA. 

result  of  the  visit,  and  I  became  more  than  ever 
aware,  on  seeing  my  wife  and  children  making 
so  many  vain  efforts  to  conceal  their  tears,  of  the 
sweet  and  holy  affection  with  which  I  was  sur- 
rounded. So  much  sadness  and  such  gentle  re- 
proaches were  not  calculated  to  give  me  the  cour- 
age of  which  I  stood  more  in  need  than  any  one 
thought.  I  spent  long,  sleepless  nights,  and  in 
the  morning  dared  not  go  to  sleep,  lest  on  wak- 
ing I  should  not  be  able  to  command  a  smile  in 
order  to  comfort  the  dear  souls  who  came  to 
greet  me  with  a  sorrowful  good-morning.  Then 
1  imagined  a  thousand  tranquillizing  theories. 
"We  had  the  winter  before  us — a  winter  is  a  very 
long  period  of  time — who  knows  what  may  hap- 
pen in  the  course  of  nine  months  ?  The  Exhibi- 
tion might  not  take  place,  or  might  be  indefi- 
nitely postponed  ;  such  things  occurred  every  day. 
America  had  had  a  long  war;  another  might 
break  out  again — in  fact,  it  was  almost  sure  to  do 
so.  I  was  in  the  position  of  the  poor  devil  in 
the  fable  whom  the  king  had  commanded  to 
teach  his  ass  to  read,  under  penalty  of  being 
hanged.  The  good  man  had  accepted,  asking 


BEFORE   LEAVING.  41 

ten  years  to  accomplish  this  miracle ;  and,  as  he 
was  blamed,  he  replied  : 

"  It  would  be  bad  luck,  indeed,  if  in  ten  years 
either  the  king,  the  ass,  or  myself  is  not  dead." 

But  the  philosopher  had  ten  years  before  him 
to  accomplish  this  miracle,  whereas  I  had  only 
six  months  ;  the  time  seemed  to  pass  with  light- 
ning speed. 

One  last  hope  remained — a  very  human,  very 
prosaic  hope.  According  to  the  terms  of  the 
agreement,  a  considerable  sum  of  money  was  to 
be  deposited  in  my  friend  Bischofsheim's  bank, 
and  I  had  endeavored  to  convince  myself,  in 
order  to  convince  my  family,  that  this  formality 
would  not  be  accomplished. 

One  day  I  met  one  of  those  men  who  always 
know  all  the  news,  nobody  knows  how ;  and,  as 
soon  as  he  caught  sight  of  me,  he  exclaimed : 

"  I  have  heard  from  yonder  ;  your  funds  will 
not  come." 

It  seemed  to  me  as  if  this  amiable  man  had 
roused  me  in  the  middle  of  a  frightful  night- 
mare. Instead  of  going  to  the  club,  I  told  the 
coachman  to  drive  back  home,  and  the  worthy 


42  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

fellow  sent  his  horse  along  at  a  rattling  pace, 
knowing  full  well  that  I  was  the  bearer  of  good 
news. 

Indeed,  I  had  no  sooner  communicated  the 
gossip,  than  everybody's  face  beamed  with  joy, 
and  frantic  delight  took  possession  of  the  house- 
hold. It  did  not  last  long,  however.  On  the 
appointed  day  the  cash  was  deposited ;  and  this 
momentary  delight  only  served  to  intensify  the 
grievous  sorrow  of  parting. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE   PASSAGE   OUT. 

THE  moment  had  come.  Always  a  painful 
one  for  a  man  who  has  lived  all  his  life  iu 
Europe,  and  who  is  about  to  enter  upon  a  long 
journey  towards  a  distant  country ;  and  it  was 
only  after  long  hesitation  that  I  finally  resolved 
to  undertake  the  proposed  voyage. 

I  left  Paris  on  the  21st  of  April.  My  two 
sons-in-law,  Charles  Comte  and  Achille  Tournal, 
my  two  brothers-in-law,  Gaston  and  Robert 
Mitchel,  and  a  few  friends — among  whom  were 
Albert  Wolff,  Mendel,  and  my  son — accompa- 
nied me  to  Havre.  I  was  deeply  moved  when  I 
went  on  board  the  ship  the  next  morning.  I 
had  endeavored  to  make  the  separation  less  pain- 
ful by  leaving  my  wife  and  daughters  iu  Paris ; 
but  how  i  regretted  them  now  ! 

The  ship  started ;  and,  as  she  grazed  the  pier, 


44  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

and  my  eyes  dwelt  for  the  last  time  on  my 
young  boy,  I  felt  a  pang  within,  me  such  as  none 
but  a  father  can  understand. 

1  While  the  ship  was  steaming  away,  my  eyes 
were  riveted  upon  that  little  group,  in  the  midst 
of  which  stood  my  dear  child.  The  sun  shining 
brightly  on  the  brass  buttons  of  his  college  uni- 
form, enabled  me  for  a  long  time  to  make  out 
the  exact  spot  where  he  stood,  and  which  my 
heart  would  otherwise  have  guessed. 

Here  I  am  on  the  Canada,  a  fine  ship,  spick 
and  span  new. 

She  left  the  quay  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  we  are  already  far  from  land.  The  vessel 
is  a  fast  one.  Like  myself,  she  is  making  her  first 
trip  to  America.  Accustomed  to  first  representa- 
tions, I  do  not  mind  being  present  at  her  first 
appearance  on  the  ocean. 

Allow  me  now  to  introduce  to  you  a  few  of  the' 

j 

ship's  company.  A  tout  Seigneur,  tout  honneur. 
Captain  Franzeue  is  a  true  sailor,  an  excellent 
man,  a  charming  talker,  who  makes  it  a  point  to 
use  his  wit  to  make  the  trip  seem  shorter  to  his 
passengers. 


THE   PASSAGE   OUT.  45 

M.  Betsellere,  the  steward,  has  already  had  the 
good  luck  of  being  shipwrecked.  He  was  on 
board  the  Gironde,  when  that  vessel  came  into 
collision  with  the  Louisiane  and  foundered. 

He  had  a  miraculous  escape;  and  now  he 
is  not  afraid  of  anything.  II  en  a  vu  Men 
dautres  ! 

Our  very  youthful  surgeon,  M.  Flamant,  is  also 
crossing  the  Atlantic  for  the  first  time.  Poor 
doctor !  His  medicine  was  of  no  avail  against 
sea-  sickness. 

We  had  not  been  gone  two  days  before  he 
ceased  to  appear  at  the  table,  and  I  took  a  cun- 
ning pleasure  in  sending  every  morning  to  inquire 
how  he  was  getting  on. 

Among  the  passengers  was,  first  of  all,  Ma- 
demoiselle Aimee,  who  had  just  returned  from 
a  very  successful  season  in  .Russia ;  Boulard, 
whom  I  was  taking  with  me  as  orchestra  leader, 
and  who  had  his  young  wife  with  him;  M. 
Bacquero,  a  charming  American,  firmly  resolved 
to  introduce  me  to  his  compatriots,  and  who  had 
succeeded,  with  the  aid  of  the  mighty  dollar,  in,, 
persuading  me  to  undertake  this  little  artistic 


46  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

tour;  Arigotti,  a  tenore  robusto,  pupil  of  the 
Paris  Conservatory,  who,  having  lost  his  voice, 
had  found  a  situation  as  secretary  to  M.  Bac- 
quero.  He  was  a  good  pianist,  and  hail-fellow 
well  met,  with  everybody  on  board ;  two  pretty 
Philadelphia  ladies ;  a  few  tradesmen  going  on  to 
see  the  Exhibition,  and  a  few  exhibitors  going  on 
to  trade;  finally,  a  few  travellers  of  no  con- 
sequence. I  cannot  give  a  better  idea  of  our  trip 
than  by  quoting  here  the  few  lines  I  sent  to  my 
wife  after  lauding : 

"  The  first  two  days  passed  off  very  well.  The 
weather  was  superb.  I  slept  admirably  on  the 
Saturday  while  we  touched  at  Plymouth.  I  had 
become  quite  accustomed  to  the  rocking  motion 
of  the  ship — so  well  accustomed  that,  when  on 
Sunday  night  she  suddenly  stopped,  I  started  up 
out  of  my  sleep.  My  limited  experience  of  sea 
voyages  induced  me  to  suppose  that  this  sudden 
stoppage  was  the  result  of  an  accident.  I  jumped 
out  of  my  berth,  dressed  in  double  quick  time, 
and  went  on  deck. 

"  It  was  a  false  alarm.  The  ship  was  under 
way  again ;  but  my  sleep  had  left  me,  and  with 


THE   PASSAGE   OUT.  47 

it  a  good  deal  of  my  confidence.  I  lay  down 
without  undressing,  fearing  that  an  accident 
might  happen  at  any  moment ;  for  every  few 
minutes  the  ship  stopped,  her  screw  being  out  of 
order. 

"  As  if  this  were  not  enough,  a  storm  came  on 
to  complicate  the  situation.  For  three  days  and 
four  nights  we  were  horribly  tossed  and  tumbled 
about.  The  rolling  and  pitching  were  frightful. 
Inside  the  ship  everything  that  was  not  made 
particularly  fast  was  soon  knocked  to  pieces ;  it 
was  equally  difficult  to  stand  up  or  sit  down. 
On  the  Monday  my  cabin  became  so  uncom- 
fortable, that  I  had  to  ask  leave  to  sleep  in  the 
saloon.  The  captain  and  the  whole  ship's  com- 
pany were  most  kind  and  considerate  to  me.  They 
remained  with  me  part  of  the  night,  and  endeav- 
ored by  every  possible  means  to  persuade  me 
there  was  no  danger. 

" '  It  is  splendid,'  the  captain  said  to  me ; 
1  just  come  up  and  see  how  the  ship  dashes  right 
into  the  waves,  only  to  come  out  magnificently 
a  minute  afterwards ! ' 

"'My  dear  captain,'   I  answered,   'to  see    a 


48  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

tempest  at  a  distance  must  be  frightfully  inter- 
esting ;  but  I  must  say,  that  to  play  a  part  in  the 
piece,  as  one  of  the  actors,  has,  to  my  mind,  but 
precious  little  f  uu  in  it.' 

"  Let  me  give  you  a  characteristic  trait  of  a 
young  American  girl,  who  was  on  board  with 
her  sister.  At  the  very  worst  of  the  storm, 
when  more  than  one  was  quietly  saying  his 
prayers  and  commending  his  soul  to  God  (I 
wasn't  the  last  to  do  so,  I  assure  you !),  the 
little  American  girl  said  to  her  sister:  'Sis- 
ter, you  really  ought  to  try  to  get  down  and 
fetch  my  pretty  little  hat.  I  would  like  to  die 
with  all  my  fine  things  on.'  '  Shall  we  bring  up 
your  gloves  too  ? '  quietly  rejoined  the  younger 
one. 

"  Before  entering  the  harbor,  the  Canada 
stopped  at  the  two  little  islands  known  as  the 
Quarantine,  where  the  health  and  custom-house 
officers  pay  their  usual  visits  to  the  ship. 

"  When  a  ship  has  any  sick  persons  on  board, 
they  are  landed  on  the  first  of  these  islands ;  arid 
when  they  get  better,  they  are  taken  to  the  other, 
where  they  remain  until  quite  well. 


THE   PASSAGE   OUT.  49 

"  Formerly  these  two  islands  did  not  exist.  It 
was  on  the  Long  Island  shore  that  the  vessels 
stopped  to  wait  for  the  custom-house  officers  and 
the  doctors.  The  inhabitants  of  this  locality 
where  wholly  indifferent  to  the  custom-house  offi- 
cers ;  but  not  so  to  the  doctors,  who  bothered  them 
immensely  with  their  sick.  The  Long  Islanders 
objected  strongly  to  the  unceasing  importation  of 
plague-stricken  people  who  were  sent  to  them 
from  the  four  points  of  the  globe.  They  finally 
declared  one  day  that,  in  future,  Long  Island 
should  not  serve  as  a  hospital,  and  that,  even  if 
they  had  to  fire  on  the  vessels,  they  would  no 
longer  allow  them  to  land  their  sick  on  the 
island.  l  But  where  would  you  have  us  put 
them  ? '  asked  the  Governor  of  the  State  of  New 
York. 

"  '  Put  them  on  the  island  opposite ;  we  have 
had  them  long  enough!  It  is  Staten  Island's 
turn  now ! ' 

"  The  Governor  thought  this  demand,  supported 
by  rifles  and  shot-guns,  sufficiently  well  founded 
to  justify  him  in  giving  the  order  to  transport 

the  quarantine  to  the  above-named  island. 
3 


50  OFFENBACH   IN    AMEEICA. 

"  The  inhabitants  of  Staten  Island,  however,  did 
not  content  themselves  with  threats ;  they  went 
into  open  rebellion,  and  quietly  set  fire  to  the 
first  ships  which  attempted  to  land,  without  in- 
quiring whether  or  not  they  carried  plague- 
stricken  passengers. 

"  The  authorities  were  not  a  little  puzzled.  But 
in  America  it  is  not  the  custom  to  remain  long 
puzzled.  The  board  met,  and  resolved  that,  since 
the  two  inhabited  islands  would  not  consent, 
under  any  circumstances,  to  receive  the  sick,  two 
other  islands  should  be  constructed  on  which 
there  should  be  no  inhabitants.  A  short  time 
afterwards  the  two  islands  now  before  us  rose  out 
of  the  sea  as  if  by  magic.  The  whole  spirit  of 
the  American  people  is  revealed  by  this  feat. 

"  As  we  were  expected  the  evening  before, 
they  had  organized  an  excursion  to  meet  me. 

"  Vessels,  decorated  with  flags  and  Venetian 
lanterns,  had  on  boaxd  newspaper  men,  sight-seers, 
a  military  band  of  sixty  to  eighty  pieces,  and 
waited  for  me  at  Sandy  Hook  ;  but,  as  we  did  not 
come,  the  vessel  put  farther  out  to  sea,  still 
hoping  to  meet  us.  They  were  jolly  on  board ; 


THE   PASSAGE   OUT.  51 

they  sang,  they  laughed,  the  band  played  our 
prettiest  tunes ;  but,  as  they  got  out,  sea-sickness 
began  to  assert  its  rights,  and  the  musicians  were 
'  not  the  last  to  feel  its  effects,  which  produced  the 
same  result  as  that  in  Haydn's  comic  symphony, 
where  the  musicians  disappear  one  after  the 
other,  putting  out  the  lights  as  they  go — only  that 
ours  had  no  lights  to  put  out ;  but,  instead  of 
giving  forth  sounds,  they  gave  forth,  one  after 
another,  their  souls  to  the  sea. 

"  "We  were  soon  hailed  by  another  craft,  having 
on  board  the  chief  reporters  of  the  New  York 
press.  Ton  will  understand  that  I  took  all  the 
pains  in  the  world  not  to  make  quite  a  fool  of 
myself ;  and  I  assure  you  that  upon  our  arrival  at 
New  York,  two  hours  afterwards,  we  were  already 
very  good  friends. 

"  At  night,  on  returning  from  the  theatre  (for 
on  the  very  first  day  I  went  to  two  theatres),  I 
saw  a  crowd  assembled  in  front  of  my  hotel ; 
electric  lights  everywhere,  so  that  you  would 
have  imagined  yourself  in  broad  daylight. 
Above  the  balcony  of  the  hotel  was  an  inscrip- 
tion in  big  letters :  '  Welcome,  Offenbach.'  An 


52  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

orchestra  of  some  sixty  musicians  were  serenad- 
ing me.  They  played  Orjphee,  the  Grande 
Duchesse,  etc.  I  dare  not  tell  you  of  all  the 
cheering,  the  shouts  of  '  Hurrah  for  Offenbach  ! ' 
I  was  forced  to  appear  on  the  balcony,  just  like 
Gambetta,  and  1  shouted  out  a  tremendous 
*  Thank  you,  gentlemen ! '  a  polite  utterance 
which,  I  trust,  will  not  be  suspected  of  subver- 
sive intentions. 

"  On  Saturday  I  was  invited  to  a  dinner,  given 
in  my  honor  by  the  Lotos  Club,  one  of  the  first 
clubs  here  —  literary  men,  artists,  merchants, 
bankers,  many  newspaper  men  of  all  shades  of 
opinion.  I  send  you  the  menu  of  the  dinner. 

" '  I  knew,'  I  said,  in  reply  to  a  toast,  '  that  for 
a  long  time  I  had  been  liked  by  the  Americans 
as  a  composer,  and  I  hoped  that  when  I  had  the 
honor  of  being  better  known  to  them  I  should 
also  be  liked  as  a  man.  I  propose,'  I  added,  l  a 
toast  to  the  United  States,  but  not  the  United 
States  purely  and  simply.  Inasmuch  as  the 
arts,  like  nations,  are  kindred,  I  propose  the 
States — United  to  Europe ! '  * 

*  Les  Etats — Unis  a  1'Europe. 


THE  PASSAGE   OUT.  53 

"  This  speech,  which  the  excitement  of  the  mo- 
ment can  alone  excuse,  was  loudly  cheered. 
Yesterday  (Monday)  I  was  invited  to  the  Press 
Club.  Nothing  but  newspaper  men,  charming 
fellows,  witty  all,  the  majority  speaking  French 
very  well,  many  of  them  having  spent  more  or 
less  time  in  France.  Plenty  of  speeches  ad- 
dressed to  me,  and  to  which  1  replied  as  best  I 
could." 


CHAPTER  III. 
NEW  YORK — GILMOKE'S  GAKDEN. 

ON  arriving  at  New  York,  I  put  up  at  the 
Fifth  Avenue  Hotel,  which  deserves  a  descrip- 
tion, as  in  Europe  one  can  form  no  idea  of  this 
kind  of  establishment.  There  is  every  conve- 
nience at  hand  ;  a  dressing-room,  bath,  and  closet 
are  provided  for  each  room.  The  ground  floor 
of  the  hotel  is  an  immense  bazar — a  little  com- 
mercial city,  in  which  every  trade  is  represented. 
There  is  the  hair-dresser  of  the  hotel,  the  hatter, 
the  tailor,  the  druggist,  the  bookseller,  even  the 
boot-black  of  the  hotel.  One  mighjt  arrive  at  a 
hotel  as  lightly  dressed  as  Adam  before  the  fall, 
as  long-haired  as  Absalom  before  he  caught  in 
the  tree,  and  depart  as  respectable  as  the  famous 
Comte  d'Orsay  of  fashionable  memory.  Every- 
thing is  to  be  found  in  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel 
—everything,  with  the  exception,  however,  of 


NEW  YORK — GILMOEE'S  GARDEN.  55 

a  polyglot;  this  alone  is  entirely  wanting. 
Among  the  two  hundred  waiters  of  this  gigan- 
tic establishment  you  would  seek  in  vain  for  one 
who  spoke  French.  This  is  not  very  pleasant 
for  those  who  cannot  speak  English ;  but,  in 
compensation  for  this,  what  numberless  com- 
forts ! 

For  twenty  dollars  a  day  you  have  a  bed-room 
and  sitting-room,  with  all  the  conveniences  just 
enumerated,  and  the  right  of  eating  all  day  long. 
From  eight  to  eleven  o'clock,  there  is  breakfast ; 
from  twelve  to  three  in  the  afternoon,  lunch ; 
from  five  to  seven,  dinner ;  from  eight  to  eleven, 
tea.  The  dining-room  is  on  the  first  floor;  as 
soon  as  you  appear  at  the  door  of  this  immense 
hall,  where  fifty  tables  are  methodically  ar- 
ranged, the  steward  meets  you,  and  shows  _ you 
to  a  seat.  Resistance,  fancy  or  preference  for 
one  corner  rather  than  for  another,  are  vain. 
The  maitre  cPhotel  (steward)  is  also  master  of 
the  hotel,  and  will  place  next  to  you  whoever  he 
chooses,  without  as  much  as  asking  your  leave. 
When  you  are  seated,  the  waiter,  without  asking 
what  you  will  take,  brings  you  a  large  glass  of 


56  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

ice- water;  for  there  is  one  thing  worthy  of  note 
in  America  :  it  is,  that,  of  all  the  fifty  tables  in 
the  room,  there  is  not  one  upon  which  anything 
but  ice- water  is  drunk;  if  by  chance  you  see 
wine  or  beer  before  a  guest,  you  may  be  certain 
that  he  is  a  European. 

After  the  glass  of  water,  the  waiter  hands  you 
the  list  of  the  eighty  dishes  of  the  day — I  do  not 
exaggerate;  you  make  your  choice,  selecting 
three  or  four ;  and  the  most  comical  part  of  the 
business  is,  that  all  you  have  ordered  is  brought 
you  at  once.  If  you  have  unfortunately  forgot- 
ten to  mention  the  vegetables  you  desire,  then 
the  fifteen  vegetables  down  on  the  bill-of-fare 
will  all  be  brought  you  at  the  same  time.  So  that 
you  find  yourself  suddenly  surrounded  by  thirty 
dishes — soup,  fish,  meat,  vegetables,  and  sweets, 
without  counting  the  rear-guard  of  desserts,  which 
is  always  composed  of  at  least  a  dozen  varieties. 
All  is  arranged  before  you,  bidding  defiance  to 
your  stomach ;  the  first  time  it  makes  you  dizzy 
and  takes  away  all  appetite. 

I  will  say  no  more  about  American  hotels  for 
the  moment,  as  I  intend  to  give  a  more  minute 


NEW  YORK — GELMORE'S  GARDEN.  57 

description  of  them  hereafter.  I  breakfast 
hurriedly,  for  my  one  wish,  my  one  desire  since 
arriving,  is  to  see  the  famous  covered  Garden 
where,  as  Bilboquet  would  say,  I  am  about  to  dis- 
play my  talents ;  I  hastened  then  to  Gilmore's 
Garden. 

Imagine  a  vast  covered  garden.  In  the  centre 
of  a  great  mass  of  tropical  plants  stands  the  stage, 
large  enough  to  accommodate  an  orchestra  of  a 
hundred  to  a  hundred  and  twenty  musicians. 
All  around  are  grass-plots,  shrubbery,  and  flower- 
beds, among  which  the  public  circulate.  Facing 
the  entry  is  a  large  cascade,  which  imitates 
Niagara  Falls  during  the  interludes.  The  cor- 
ners of  the  Garden  are  occupied  by  little  Swiss 
cottages,  which  can  hold  seven  or  eight  persons, 
and  which  advantageously  supply  the  place  of 
boxes  in  a  theatre.  A  large  gallery,  with  ordi- 
nary boxes  and  tiers  of  seats,  afford  facilities  for 
those  who  like  seeing  and  hearing  from  an  eleva- 
tion, to  satisfy  their  taste. 

The  ensemble  reminds  one  somewhat  of  the 
old  Jardin  d'Hiver,  once  so  popular  in  the 
Champs-Elyse'es.  The  hall  has  a  capacity  of 


58  OFFENBACH   IN   AMEKICA. 

eight  to  nine  thousand  persons.  It  is  brilliantly 
lit  up ;  colored  glasses  are  hung  in  festoons  of 
the  most  picturesque  effect. 

Delighted  with  the  hall,  I  asked  Mr.  Grau,  the 
manager,  a  few  particulars  upon  the  orchestra  I 
was  to  lead. 

"  We  have  engaged,"  he  answered  me,  "  the 
hundred  and  ten  musicians  you  asked  for ;  and  I 
can  assure  you  they  are  the  best  in  New  York." 

I  soon  discovered  that  he  had  not  deceived  me. 

I  had  the  rare  good  fortune  of  gaining  the  sym- 
pathy of  my  orchestra  from  the  start ;  and  here 
is  how  it  happened  :  The  musicians  have  here  a 
vast  and  powerful  organization,  and  have  consti- 
tuted a  society,  outside  of  which  there  is  no 
salvation.  Any  one  who  wishes  to  join  an  orches- 
tra must  first  become  a  member  of  the  society. 
There  is  no  exception  to  this  rule;  from  the 
leader  to  the  drummer  inclusively,  all  must 
belong  to  it. 

I  had  been  advised  of  this  state  of  things  by 
Boulard,  who  had  already  led  one  or  two  re- 
hearsals, and  who  had  been  obliged  to  join  the 
association  in  order  to  be  allowed  to  lead. 


NEW  YOEK — GILMOEE'S  GARDEN.  59 

On  my  entering  the  hall,  the  musicians  re- 
ceived me  with  a  regular  ovation,  for  which  I 
returned  thanks  in  a  few  words. 

We  begin  the  rehearsal  with  the  overture 
of  "  Vert- Vert"  I  had  scarcely  led  sixteen 
bars  when  I  stopped  the  orchestra,  and,  address- 
ing the  musicians : 

"  Excuse  me,  gentlemen,"  I  said.  "  We  have 
scarcely  begun,  and  you  have  already  failed  in 
your  duty." 

General  astonishment. 

"  What !  I  am  not  a  member  of  your  associa- 
tion, and  you  allow  me  to  lead  !  " 

Whereupon  there  was  a  general  laugh.  I 
waited  until  this  had  subsided,  and  then  added, 
quite  seriously : 

"  Since  you  have  not  thought  proper  to  men- 
tion it  to  me,  I  must  myself  request  to  be 
admitted  into  your  society." 

They  protested ;  but  I  insisted,  saying  that  I 
entirely  approved  of  their  institution,  and  should 
consider  it  an  honor  to  belong  to  it. 

My  request  was  received  with  long  and  loud 
applause.  I  had  conquered  my  orchestra,  and 


60  OFFENBACH   IN  'AMERICA. 

from  this  moment  we  were  all  members  of  the 
same  family,  and  the  most  perfect  harmony 
never  ceased  to  prevail  among  us.  It  is  fair  to 
add  that  the  orchestra  was  composed  in  a 
superior  manner ;  for  each  of  my  pieces  two 
rehearsals  were  always  sufficient  to  insure  a  most 
brilliant  rendering. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  HOUSES THE  STREETS — THE  CAES. 

I  DID  not  stay  long  in  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel, 
where  they  eat  so  much,  and  where  they  speak  so 
little  French.  After  three  or  four  days  I  went 
to  reside  at  a  private  house  in  Madison  Square. 
Here  again  I  was  able  to  judge  to  what  extent 
comfort  is  carried  in  America.  Not  only  are 
there  furnaces  supplying  heat  for  all  the  apart- 
ments, gas  in  all  the  rooms,  hot  and  cold  water 
at  all  times,  but  on  the  ground  floor  there  are 
three  pretty  little  knobs,  of  great  importance. 
These  three  knobs  represent  three  considerable 
forces:  protection  of  the  law,  help  in  case  of 
accident,  and  the  services  of  an  assistant.  All 
this  represented  by  three  knobs  ?  Certainly ;  and 
there  is  no  magic  about  it  either ! 

The  three  knobs  are  electric  ones ;  you  press 
upon  the  first,  and  a  porter  appears  to  take  your 


62  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

orders.  You  touch  the  second,  and  a  policeman 
comes  to  place  himself  at  your  disposition.  The 
third  knob  enables  you  to  give  the  alarm,  in  case 
of  fire,  and  brings,  in  a  few  seconds,  a  whole 
brigade  of  firemen  around  your  house. 

Nor  is  this  all.  Besides  these  three  knobs  you 
may,  if  you  choose,  have  in  your  study  what  is 
to  be  found  in  all  the  leading  hotels,  bar-rooms, 
eating-houses,  public-houses,  and  even  cigar-stores, 
viz.:  the  telegraph.  You  have  only  to  express 
the  desire,  and  they  will  set  up  in  your  house  a 
little  apparatus  which  will  function  from  morn- 
ing till  night  and  from  night  till  morning,  and 
which  gives  you  all  the  news  from  both  worlds. 
A  continuous  slip  of  paper,  unrolling  in  a  wicker 
basket,  enables  you  to  read  the  last  dispatches 
from  Paris,  the  news  of  the  war  in  the  East,  as 
well  as  of  the  elections  in  Cincinnati  or  St.  Louis. 
At  all  hours  you  can  ascertain  the  rise  or  fall  of 
all  the  stock  markets  in  the  world,  and  can  see 
whether  you  have  made  or  lost  a  fortune. 

If  the  New  York  houses  are  extremely  practi- 
cal, the  city  itself  is  organized  in  a  marvellous 
manner.  The  Americans  do  not,  like  us,  name 


THE  HOUSES — THE  STREETS — THE  CAKS.    63 

their  streets  after  the  people  who  govern,  nor 
change  the  names  of  the  streets  every  time  a 
government  disappears ;  it  would  not  do  for  that 
republic  which  changes  its  President  every  four 
years.  At  the  end  of  twenty  years  a  street  would 
have  had  more  names  than  the  most  renowned 
hidalgos  of  Castillo.  To  avoid  the  inconvenience 
of  this  system,  the  Americans  prefer  naming 
their  streets  and  their  avenues  hy  numbers :  First 
Avenue,  Second  Avenue;  this  has  nothing  to 
do  with  politics,  and  needs  no  change.  In  the 
squares,  which  are  magnificent,  but  few  statues 
are  to  be  seen ;  there  is  one  of  Washington,  a 
very  modest  one.  This  is  a  great  contrast  to 
France,  where  everybody  is  more  or  less  sculp- 
tured in  marble  or  moulded  in  bronze,  in  conse- 
quence of  which  our  country  begins  to  look  like 
an  immense  museum  of  men  in  frock-coats,  or  a 
collection  of  dummies  for  a  ready-made  clothing- 
store. 

From  my  window  I  discovered  in  Madison 
Square  a  curious  and  charming  feature.  On 
the  upper  branches  of  the  trees  are  placed  little 
houses,  half  hid  in  the  foliage.  These  are  to 


64:  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

lodge  the  sparrows  brought  from  Europe ;  these 
little  birds,  brought  from  their  mother  country, 
are  the  objects  of  the  greatest  attention  ;  the  law 
protects  them,  and  it  is  forbidden  to  touch  them ; 
they  are  as  much  respected  as  the  pigeons  of 
Saint  Mark. 

Most  of  the  streets  are  literally  spoilt  by  the 
rails  which  cross  them  in  every  direction  ;  these 
are  used  for  the  tramways,  to  which  here  they 
give  the  name  of  cars. 

The  American  car  is  not  at  all  like  our  French 
vehicles,  not  even  like  those  which  Parisians  call 
American  omnibuses.  The  number  of  passengers 
is  not  limited  ;  although  all  the  seats  may  be 
occupied,  there  is  always  room ;  the  last  comers 
stand  holding  on  to  straps  which  hang  from 
the  inside,  or  crowd  upon  the  platform ;  in  case 
of  necessity,  they  would  sit  on  the  conductor's 
shoulders ;  so  long  as  there  is  a  projection  free,  a 
knee  vacant,  a  step  unoccupied,  the  car  is  not  con- 
sidered full.  A  car,  which  is  built  for  twenty- 
four  persons,  thus  often  carries  three  times  as 
many  from  one  end  of  the  town  to  another,  and 
for  the  modest  sum  of  five  cents. 


THE  HOUSES — THE  STREETS THE  CABS.    65 

Americans,  who  are  shrewd  fellows,  have 
found  the  way  to  utilize  for  their  private  account 
the  numerous  rails  which  are  laid  on  nearly 
every  street,  by  making  the  wheels  of  their  car- 
riages to  fit  the  tracks ;  in  this  manner  they  go 
faster,  and  fatigue  their  horses  less ;  they  leave 
the  tracks  merely  to  pass  ahead  of  the  heavy  cars 
of  the  company. 

Sometimes  the  cars  come  at  full  speed  behind 
them,  before  they  have  time  to  get  out  of  the 
way ;  but  an  accident  of  this  kind  is  soon  re- 
paired: the  horses  scramble  to  their  feet,  the 
driver  climbs  upon  his  box  without  grumbling, 
and  quietly  returns  to  the  track  as  soon  as  the 
car  has  gone  by.  The  omnibuses,  which  do  not  go 
on  rails,  have  no  conductor  to  receive  the  money ; 
the  passenger  himself  pays  his  fare,  by  dropping 
the  change  in  a  little  box  placed  for  the  purpose. 

I  asked  an  American,  if  the  company  did  not 
lose  much  money  by  this  system ;  he  replied  that 
it  would  cost  dearer  to  pay  a  conductor,  and  some 
one  to  look  after  him,  and  that  they  lost  less  in 
trusting  to  the  honesty  of  the  passengers.  The 
practical  side  of  the  Americans  is  seen  in  the 


66  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

most  trifling  details ;  the  little  box,  of  which  I 
have  just  spoken,  answers  two  purposes  :  during 
the  day  it  receives  the  pennies  ;  in  the  evening 
it  is  lit  up  and  becomes  a  lantern.  A  great 
number  of  vehicles  are  covered  by  gigantic  para- 
sols, which  serve  to  protect  the  coachmen  from 
the  heat,  which  is  terrible,  and  to  bear  advertise- 
ments. I  was  told  that  this  monster  parasol  was 
changed  every  week  at  the  expense  of  the  adver- 
tiser. The  success  of  the  cars,  which  pass  every 
minute  or  two,  is  considerable,  as  this  kind  of 
locomotion  has  quite  entered  into  American 
habits ;  even  the  ladies  and  the  richest  people 
make  use  of  it ;  and  they  are  right,  for  cabs  or 
coaches,  with  one  or  two  horses,  are  excessively 
dear.  It  is  true  they  are  comfortable  and  well 
kept ;  but  it  is  hard  to  pay  a  dollar  and  a  half, 
for  a  ride  in  a  one-horse  cab ;  those  with  two 
horses  cost  two  dollars — seven  francs  and  a  half, 
and  ten  francs ;  and  should  you  omit  to  settle  on 
a  price  in  advance,  they  would  ask  you,  for  a 
drive  to  the  Central  Park,  seven  dollars — thirty- 
five  francs  for  a  two  hours'  drive. 

While  the  great  number  of  cars  and   omni- 


THE  HOUSES — THE  STREETS — THE  CARS.    67 

buses  which  circulate  through  the  streets  of 
New  York  offer  evident  advantages,  they  also 
present  serious  dangers  for  foot-passengers; 
therefore,  at  most  of  the  busiest  crossings, 
passage-ways  laid  in  flag-stones  have  been  es- 
tablished, and  a  policeman  has  charge,  to  see 
that  pedestrians  are  not  run  over ;  he  fulfils 
his  duty  in  the  most  paternal  manner,  taking 
ladies  and  children  by  the  hand,  leading  them 
to  the  opposite  side  of  the  street,  stopping  all 
the  carriages  on  the  crossing.  This  precau- 
tion is  much  appreciated  by  the  American 
ladies,  who  readily  go  out  of  their  way  to  be 
piloted  across  by  the  agent  of  the  public  force. 
I  was  told  that,  should  one  be  run  over  on 
the  crossing,  a  large  amount  of  damages  could 
be  recovered  by  the  injured  party ;  but  if  this 
misfortune  should  occur  at  a  time  when  you 
happen  to  be  on  the  pavement,  just  outside 
the  crossing,  not  only  you  have  no  right  to 
recover  anything,  but  the  owner  of  the  car- 
riage can  demand  damages  for  his  loss  of  time. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE   THEATRES  OF   NEW   YOKK. 

ONE  of  my  first  cares,  on  arriving  at  New 
York,  was  to  visit  such  theatres  as  were  still 
open. 

The  principal  theatres  of  the  city  are  admira- 
bly well  managed ;  they  are  all  built  on  the  same 
plan,  in  the  form  of  a  vast  amphitheatre,  with 
several  tiers  of  seats,  in  long  rows;  there  are 
generally  only  eight  boxes  in  each  of  them — four 
proscenium  boxes  on  the  right,  and  four  on  the 
left.  Even  these  few  boxes  are  almost  always 
empty,  even  when  the  rest  of  the  building  is 
crowded.  The  best  society  prefers  seats  in  the 
orchestra  or  dress  circle. 

As  there  are  very  few  managers  who  are  per- 
manently in  the  business,  the  theatres  are  let  for 
a  season,  a  month,  or  even  a  week. 

A  manager  has  the  right  to  fail  two  or  three 


THE  THEATRES  OF  NEW  YORK.        69 

times ;  he  is  not  thought  the  worse  of  for  such  a 
trifling  thing  as  that ;  the  deeper  he  plunges,  the 
quicker  he  returns  to  the  surface. 

They  showed  me  a  highly  respected  manager, 
who  had  managed  to  fail  six  or  seven  times. 

"  He  is  very  clever,"  they  told  me ;  "  next  win- 
ter he  will  bring  out  a  splendid  company." 

I  asked  how  he  would  find  the  money. 

"  The  persons  to  whom  he  owes,"  they  replied, 
"keep  lending  him  in  hopes  that  he  will  suc- 
ceed some  day,  and  that  they  will  have  a  chance 
to  recover  what  they  have  lost." 

They  perform  grand  operas  at  the  Academy 
of  Music ;  but  I  was  unable  to  see  one,  as  during 
eight  months  the  theatre  had  only  been  open 
some  sixty  times. 

There  had  been  four  weeks  of  fair  success, 
when  Tietiens  appeared  in  JVbrma ;  then,  Stra- 
kosch  arrived  with  Bellocca,  who  did  not  have 
much  success,  notwithstanding  the  tremendous 
puffing  which  had  preceded  her. 

The  most  brilliant  periods  of  this  theatre  were 
during  the  engagements  of  Nilsson,  of  Lucca,  of 
Morel,  of  Capoul,  and  of  Campanini.  At  Booth's 


70  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

Theatre,  tragedy,  comedy,  or  opera  are  played, 
according  to'  the  fancy  of  the  manager  who  hires 
the  theatre.  I  saw  Henry  the  Fifth  played 
there  by  an  actor  of  merit,  Mr.  Kignold ;  the 
scenery  was  very  fine. 

One  week  later  the  North  Star  was  played  on 
the  same  stage,  with  Miss  Kellogg,  an  American 
singer,  between  thirty-two  or  thirty-four  years  of 
age,  and  who  has  a  very  fine  voice.  Meyerbeer's 
opera,  not  having  been  sufficiently  rehearsed, 
totally  lacked  ensemble,  especially  in  the  finale  of 
the  second  act.  The  chorus  and  the  orchestra 
seemed  engaged  in  an  unsuccessful  game  of  hide 
and  seek.  Upon  the  whole,  it  was  not  unlike  the 
performance  of  one  of  Wagner's  weakest  works. 

A  rather  funny  thing,  however,  was  to  see, 
among  the  spectators  in  the  orchestra  stalls,  a 
number  of  trombones  and  bassoons,  who  put 
in  a  note  from  time  to  time.  I  must  say  this 
puzzled  me.  Who  were  these  musicians  ?  Were 
they  amateurs,  trombones  by  vocation,  who  had 
come  voluntarily  to  strengthen  the  orchestra  ?  I 
had  not  to  wait  long  for  an  explanation :  a  glance 
was  sufficient  to  discover  the  cause  of  this  anom- 


THE  THEATRES  OF  NEW  YOKE.        71 

aly.  The  space  allotted  to  the  orchestra  was  not 
large  enough,  and  the  brass  instruments  had  been 
removed  outside  the  railing. 

At  the  Union  Square  Theatre  I  heard  JFer- 
reol  in  English,  with  a  first-class  company.  I 
attended,  also,  a  performance  of  Conscience — a 
•very  good  play,  by  two  young  American  authors, 
Messrs.  Lancaster  and  Magnus.  In  the  same  house, 
I  was  told,  Rose  Michel  had  been  performed 
with  immense  success. 

On  the  evening  of  my  visit  to  Wallack's  Thea- 
tre the  four  hundredth  performance  of  the 
Mighty  Dollar  was  given,  and  the  principal 
parts  were  played  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Florence, 
both  actors  of  superior  ability.  They  reminded 
me,  the  first  of  our  excellent  Geoffrey,  the  latter 
of  our  lively  Alphonsine.  This  pair  of  artists  have 
been  playing  together  for  more  than  twenty  years, 
and  enjoy  great  favor  with  the  Americans.  The 
perfect  concert  of  the  other  actors,  in  their  per- 
formance, was  quite  remarkable.  I  noticed  par- 
ticularly a  charming  ingenue,  scarcely  seventeen 
years  of  age,  Miss  Baker,  who  does  honor  to  her 
part  as  a  youthful  prima-donna ;  and  I  must  not 


72  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

forget  to  mention  the  elegant  and  sympathetic 
Miss  Cummins. 

Mr.  Deutsch,  manager  of  Wallack's,  is  one  of 
the  youngest  as  also  one  of  the  cleverest  New 
York  managers.  Some  idea  may  be  formed  of 
American  theatrical  management  by  the  re- 
engagement  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Florence  for  four  hun- 
dred nights.  Mr.  Deutsch  expects  to  visit  with 
them  all  the  principal  cities  of  the  Union,  from 
New  York  to  San  Francisco — giving  always  the 
same  play,  the  Mighty  Dollar. 

The  Lyceum  Theatre  was  closed  for  the  sum- 
mer season.  In  this  theatre  Fechter  had  great 
success,  in  the  Dame  aux  Camelias  and  in 
several  other  plays.  Dramas  with  chorus  and 
orchestra  have  also  been  frequently  performed 
here. 

In  the  Lyceum  Theatre  the  first  attempt  was 
made  to  remove  the  orchestra  out  of  sight  of 
the  public,  a  novelty  lately  renewed  by  Wagner 
at  Bayreuth.  The  nuisance  of  this  innovation 
was  soon  found  out.  First  of  all,  the  acoustics 
were  wretched.  Then  the  musicians,  who  were 
crowded  into  a  subterranean  receptacle,  suffering 


THE  THEATRES  OF  NEW  YORK.        73 

from  the  excessive  heat,  undertook  to  remedy 
the  difficulty  as  best  they  could. 

On  the  first  evening  a  fiddler  removed  his 
cravat,  and  unbuttoned  his  waistcoat;  on  the  fol- 
lowing night  the  altos  took  off  their  coats,  and 
played  in  their  shirt-sleeves ;  and  within  a  week 
all  the  musicians  were  doing  as  much.  Finally, 
one  evening  the  public  perceived,  rising  from 
beneath  the  stage,  a  light  cloud  of  smoke  ;  there 
was  at  once  a  real  panic  :  it  proved  to  be  only  the 
musicians  enjoying  a  smoke.  This  was  the  last  of 
this  foolish  innovation.  The  musicians  put  on 
their  coats,  and  returned  to  their  accustomed 
position. 

Another  theatre,  which  I  was  unable  to  see, 
is  the  Grand  Opera  House,  which  was  likewise 
closed.  This  was  built  by  the  famous  Fisk,  who 
was  assassinated  by  his  friend  Stokes.  This 
Fisk  was  one  of  the  most  eccentric  and  famous 
"N~ew  York  characters :  the  son  of  poor  parents, 
he  earned  his  livelihood,  when  a  youth,  by  selling 
small  wares  and  hair-oil.  He  became  not  only 
manager  of  the  largest  theatre  in  New  York,  but 

also  vice-president  of  a  railway  company,  corn- 
et 


74  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

modore  of  a  line  of  steamers,  and  colonel  of  a 
regiment. 

He  was  bold  and  energetic  in  his  enterprises, 
and  showed  great  originality  in  his  ways.  Every 
person  who  wanted  employment  on  his  railway 
had  first  to  enlist  in  his  regiment;  and  in  this 
manner  he  organized  one  of  the  finest  regiments 
in  New  York.  Occasionally  he  would  take  a 
fancy  to  call  out  his  men,  and  have  them  march 
gallantly  in  presence  of  some  fair  dame.  On  such 
occasions  the  railway  trafiic  was  suspended,  and 
the  stations  were  closed  along  the  whole  line. 

This  magnificent  colonel  possessed  splendid 
carriages  and  horses,  and  never  drove  out  other- 
wise than  in  a  beautiful  open  carriage,  drawn  by 
eight  fine  horses. 

His  tragic  death  was  the  result  of  a  love  affair  ; 
the  great  impresario  fell  a  victim  to  a  domestic 
tragedy,  and  a  two-fold  vengeance  stopped  his 
career.  Here  are  the  facts : 

Fisk  fell  hopelessly  in  love  with  a  beautiful 
American  lady,  to  whom  he  became  desperately 
attached.  Wondrous  theatrical  performances 
were  given  in  her  honor ;  parades  of  the  famous 


THE  THEATRES  OF  NEW  YORK.       75 

regiment,  with  the  consequent  stoppage  of  his 
railway — he  set  everything  to  work  to  carry  his 
point,  and  of  course  he  succeeded.  In  accord- 
ance with  the  immutable  law  of  nature,  the  first 
thing  Fisk  did  was  to  introduce  his  friend  Stokes 
to  his  mistress.  Since  the  days  of  King  Candau- 
lus,  lovers  have  always  been  equally  foolish. 
Stokes  had  a  goodly  income;  he  was  charmed 
with  the  lady ;  and  Fisk  became  ....  the  hap- 
piest of  the  three,  until  the  day  when  he  discov- 
ered the  treachery  of  his  friend. 

I  cannot  say  whether  his  first  impulse  was  or 
not  to  seize  his  revolver ;  but  I  do  know  that,  on 
second  thought,  he  gave  up  this  solution  as  insuf- 
ficient ;  he  had  imagined  a  better  plan.  With- 
out manifesting  in  any  way  to  his  friend  Stokes 
the  hatred  he  had  conceived  towards  him,  he  pre- 
tended, on  the  contrary,  to  have  become  more 
attached  to  him  than  ever.  He  persuaded  him 
to  take  part  with  him  in  different  speculations, 
and  to  invest  all  his  money  in  certain  stocks 
which  he  was  "  bulling  "  at  the  time  ;  then  he 
threw  all  his  own  shares  upon  the  market,  over- 
stocked the  market,  and  brought  about  a  terrible 


76  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

fall,  which  completed  the  ruin  of  his  good  friend 
Stokes.  I  presume  that  Fisk  was  so  pleased  with 
the  result  of  his  little  combination,  that  he  had  a 
little  conversation  with  Stokes,  and  explained  to 
him  the  why  and  wherefore  of  his  ruin.  Stokes, 
who  probably  could  not  see  the  joke,  swore  on  his 
side  to  revenge  himself.  But  as  he  had  not  the 
cunning  of  his  enemy,  he  had  recourse  to  a  more 
vulgar  and  more  expeditious  means.  He  waited 
one  day  for  Fisk  until  he  came  out  of  the  Grand 
Central  Hotel,  where  the  aforesaid  beautiful  lady 
resided,  and  quietly  blew  out  his  brains. 

If  Fisk  had  survived,  no  doubt  he  would 
have  had  a  fine  drama  written  on  this  subject  for 
his  theatre. 

The  last  theatre  which  I  visited  was  the  Fifth 
Avenue  Theatre,  a  very  handsome  one,  where  a 
heavy  drama,  Pique,  was  being  performed.  The 
play  was  made  up  of  situations  stolen  almost 
everywhere,  but  is,  of  course,  by  Mr.  Boucicault. 

There  are  also  two  German  and  one  French 
theatre  in  New  York ;  they  are  open  from  time  to 
time,  whenever  they  happen  to  find  a  manager. 

But  I  must  not  close  this  chapter  on  Ameri- 


THE  THEATRES  OF  NEW  YORK.        77 

can  theatres  without  mentioning  a  little  hall 
where  I  heard  the  minstrels. 

There  all  the  actors  are  negroes;  the  chorus 
consists  of  negroes ;  the  servants  are  negroes ; 
— cashier,  manager,  superintendent,  men  and 
women,  all  black ! 

On  sighting  the  stage,  I  perceived  a  negro 
orchestra,  playing  tunes  more  or  less  fantastic. 

But  great  was  my  surprise  on  becoming 
aware  that  I  was  the  object  of  their  special  atten- 
tion, and  that  they  were  pointing  me  out  to  one 
another.  I  could  not  believe  that  I  was  known 
to  so  many  negroes;  but,  nevertheless,  I  must 
confess  I  was  delighted  to  find  that  such  was  the 
case. 

The  performance  was  sufficiently  comical  to 
induce  me  to  remain  to  the  end.  What  was 
my  astonishment  on  returning,  after  the  first  act, 
to  witness  a  renewal  of  the  same  manifestations 
towards  me — that  is  to  say,  the  musicians  again 
pointing  me  out  to  one  another.  This  time  they 
were  all  white,  as  white  as  the  bakers  in  the 
Boulangere.  I  became  prouder  than  ever;  but, 
alas !  there  was  deception  in  store  for  me.  I  was 


78  OFFENBACH   IN  AMERICA. 

informed  they  were  the  same  musicians,  and  that, 
from  the  manager  to  the  servants,  they  were 
nothing  but  sham  negroes,  who  alternately  painted 
and  washed  their  faces  three  or  four  times 
every  evening,  according  to  the  requirements  of 
the  performances. 


CHAPTER  VI.' 

ART    IN    AMERICA. 

THE  foreigner's  attention  is  attracted  by  thou- 
sands of  admirable  objects  on  his  visit  to  the 
United  States.  In  America,  more  than  anywhere 
else,  human  intelligence  and  labor  have  worked 
miracles.  It  would  be  superfluous  to  praise  the 
manufacturing  industry,  so  thoroughly  organized, 
so  powerfully  assisted  by  machinery,  the  strength 
and  power  of  which  astound  the  imagination.  It 
would  be  idle  to  call  up  the  marvels  accomplished 
upon  this  land,  virgin  still  scarce  a  hundred  years 
ago ;  nor  to  speak  of  the  vast  network  of  railways 
and  telegraphs  spreading  its  links  farther  and 
farther  every  day ;  and  of  the  numerous  other  im- 
provements which  constantly  tend  to  increase  the 
comforts  of  life. 

But  a  sad  thought  occurs  to  disturb  the  travel- 
ler's admiration,  when  he  observes  that  the  dis- 


80  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

tribution  of  forces  is  not  equally  balanced  in 
their  employment,  and  that  the  progress,  which 
made  the  United  States  so  great,  was  only 
directed  to  one  side :  they  have  conquered  the 
material  world,  but  have  remained  behind  in  the 
acquisition  of  those  qualities  essential  to  spiritual 
life.  America  is  to-day  like  a  giant  of  a  hundred 
cubits,  endowed  with  every  physical  gift,  but 
lacking  the  one  essential  thing — a  soul. 

Art  is  the  soul  of  nations ;  it  expresses  in  word* 
what  the  purest  sentiments  create. 

My  chapter  on  the  theatres  will  already  havo 
suggested  the  thought  that  the  dramatic  art  was 
sadly  neglected  in  the  United  States,  and  has 
served  to  show  its  present  deplorable  condition. 

Good  actors,  well  trained  companies,  and 
authors  are  only  produced  by  stable  institutions, 
steady  local  work,  and  slowly  acquired  traditions. 
But  there  is  no  permanent  opera  in  New  York, 
no  comic  opera,  nor  even  a  theatre  for  operettes 
which  is  sure  to  last  for  two  consecutive  years; 
and  there  is  no  stage  for  classic  or  modern  plays 
which  could  offer  sufficient  guarantees  of  stability 
to  become  a  school ;  for  in  America  the  stage  lives 


ART  IN   AMERICA.  81 

from  hand  to  mouth.  Manager  and  company  are 
nomadic,  and  the  greater  number  of  actors  are 
mere  travellers  borrowed  from  the  Old  World, 
who  arrive  and  depart  with  the  season. 

The  same  observation  applies  also  to  other 
branches  of  art,  and  neither  music,  painting,  nor 
sculpture  find  in  America  a  soil  which  favors 
their  development.  You  may  assert  that  there 
are  painters  and  sculptors;  I  agree  with  yon, 
and  I  know  myself  several  of  eminent  talent : 
Bierstadt,  Hunt,  Ball,  Church,  Vinnie  Ream, 
and  many  others.  Where  is  the  moor  on  which 
no  flower  grows  ?  I  see  a  few  flowers,  but  I  see 
no  garden ;  and  if  there  are  good  painters,  still 
there  is  no  American  school. 

It  is  all-important  for  the  glory  of  the  United 
States  to  remedy  this  great  deficiency.  A  nation 
of  such  magnitude  must  not  lack  one  essential 
quality  which  art  alone  could  add  to  the 
splendor  and  glory  of  their  industrial  power. 

What  are  the  best  means  of  developing  the 
fine  arts  in  the  United  States  ?  Were  I  called 
upon  to  answer  this  question,  I  would  say  to  the 

Americans : 

4* 


82  OFFENBACH  IN   AMERICA. 

You  possess  all  the  necessary  elements — intel- 
ligent and  talented  men ;  and,  as  a  proof  that  you 
lack  no  capacity,  I  again  refer  to  the  artists' 
names  already  mentioned,  who  have  succeeded, 
without  means  of  culture,  and  under  unfavor- 
able circumstances,  in  producing  masterpieces. 
You  have  wealth  and  excellent  amateur  collec- 
tions, which  are  justly  celebrated.  Employ  these 
elements,  and  you  will  command  success. 

If  your  principles  forbid  the  State  to  aid  this 
reform  by  subsidies,  then  you  must  organize 
yourselves.  European  States  support  only  a  few 
leading  theatres  in  their  capitals,  and  the 
theatres  and  museums  in  the  smaller  towns  are 
aided  by  the  municipal  authority.  In  our 
country  the  city  councils  do  much  for  the  prog- 
ress of  art ;  they  provide  not  alone  for  theatres 
and  museums,  but  often  give  free  admissions  to 
conservatories  and  academies,  to  young  persons 
who  show  a  natural  disposition  for  the  fine  arts. 
You  can  easily  imitate  this  example;  if  the 
municipality  cannot  help  you,  you  can  establish 
great  societies  and  corresponding  associations  in 
all  the  principal  cities,  for  the  protection  of  art. 


AET  IN   AMEEICA.  83 

As  the  material  means  abound  with  you,  you  can 
with  their  assistance  accomplish  the  same  that 
government  institutions  do  in  Europe. 

Your  subsidies  can  help  to  establish  theatres 
and  elevate  dramatic  art,  procure  permanent 
managers,  protected  to  a  degree  against  bank- 
ruptcy. Two  operas  and  one  literary  stage 
are  needed :  above  all,  a  national  conservatory, 
where  you  can  form  talented  scholars ;  but  you 
must  provide  for  them  eminent  teachers  and  pro- 
fessors of  distinction  from  Europe,  and  retain 
them  with  you.  When  you  have  once  permanent 
theatres  and  a  well-appointed  conservatory,  you 
will  have  aided  greatly  the  dramatic  art  and 
American  composers  and  authors.  However, 
you  will  not  reap  the  fruits  immediately.  There 
might  elapse  perhaps  ten,  twenty  years,  before 
these  institutions  produce  the  excellent  results 
that  may  be  expected  of  them.  And  what  are 
twenty  years?  In  twenty  years  your  students 
may  become  masters ;  you  will  be  independent  of 
European  art ;  and  ten  years  later  the  theatres  of 
the  Old  World  may  require  your  actors,  as  you 
now  require  theirs. 


84:  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

And  are  the  other  branches  of  art  not  re- 
quired in  the  same  way  ?  You  must  establish 
museums.  Often  have  men  discovered  in  them- 
selves the  creative  qualities  which  God  bestowed 
upon  them,  or  those  faculties  of  assimilation 
which  frequently  are  equivalent  to  genius  ;  good 
taste  is  formed  and  purified  by  the  contempla- 
tion of  masterpieces. 

You  want  likewise  academies  for  painting  and 
sculpture,  with  professors  chosen  from  our  best 
institutes.  The  masters  will  not  consent  to 
leave  their  country;  but  the  greatest  painters 
and  the  greatest  sculptors  are  not  what  you  need, 
as  those  next  them  have  all  necessary  qualities 
for  teaching ;  and  these  you  must  invite.  Don't 
consider  the  cost,  for  then  only  can  you  found 
an  American  school  worthy  to  appear  in  the 
records  of  art,  by  the  side  of  the  Italians,  Dutch, 
Spaniards,  and  Frenchmen.  A  hundred  years 
have  sufficed  to  raise  the  United  States  to  the 
highest  point  of  industrial  splendor,  and  a  nation 
which  has  given  such  admirable  proofs  of  energy, 
activity,  and  perseverance,  requires  but  a  short 
time  to  acquire  a  rank  in  the  dominions  of  art. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

RESTAURANTS — THREE   TYPES   OF   WAITERS. 

THERE  are  many  restaurants  in  New  York  and 
Philadelphia. 

At  the  Brunswick,  which  is  French,  the  table 
is  very  good  ;  at  Delmonico's,  which  is  Swiss,  it 
is  not  quite  so  good  ;  and  at  the  Hoffman,  which 
is  German,  it  is  only  tolerable.  Other  New  York 
restaurants  are  Morelli  (Italian)  and  Frascati 
(Spanish),  where  you  can  dine  for  one  dollar. 
I  saw  many  other  restaurants,  enormously  fre- 
quented, but  I  could  not  vouch  for  their  fare. 
The  Brunswick  has  an  advantage  over  Delmoni- 
co's :  an  immense  hall,  such  as  could  not  be  found 
in  Paris. 

Petry  (French)  and  Finelli  (Italian)  are  the 
most  popular  establishments  in  Philadelphia,  if  I 
leave  out  Verdier,  who  is  there  only  for  the  time, 
and  whose  dining-saloons  are  at  the  Exhibition, 
two  hours'  distance  from  the  city. 


88  OFFENBACH  IN  AMERICA. 

As  you  see,  there  are  in  fact  no  restaurants 
which  can  properly  be  called  American. 

The  Americans  keep  the  hotels,  but  the  kitchen 
seems  entirely  surrendered  to  foreigners.  Noth- 
ing is  easier  than  to  eat  a  meal  in  the  French, 
Italian,  Spanish,  or  German  style.  Nothing  is 
more  difficult  for  a  stranger  than  to  eat  an 
American  dinner  in  America. 

I  had  almost  forgotten  to  mention  the  most 
interesting  of  all  restaurants — the  restaurant  that 
serves  meals  gratis  ! 

It  would  certainly  never  occur  to  one  of  our 
French  hotel-keepers  to  open  a  free  table  d'hote. 
In  spite  of  the  Irishman's  assertion,  that  it  is 
possible  to  get  rich  while  losing  on  each  article  by 
making  it  up  on  the  quantity,  neither  Bignon, 
nor  Brebant,  nor  the  Cafe*  Biche  have  yet  made 
such  an  attempt ;  and  one  must  really  go  to  a 
progressive  country  in  order  to  see  such  things. 

At  all  events,  several  well-known  New  York 
restaurants  serve  meals  for  nothing — provided 
you  take  a  drink,  even  if  it  only  cost  ten  cents. 
On  Sundays,  when,  thanks  to  the  police,  the 
restaurants  dare  not  sell  drinks,  it  is  all  the 


RESTAURANTS — THREE  TYPES   OF   WAITERS.     87 

better  for  the  consumer.  Lunch  is  served  as 
usual,  and  I  can  state  this  as  a  fact,  having  seen 
it  at  the  Brunswick  myself ;  and  they  say  that 
living  is  expensive  in  America. 

And  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  this  gratui- 
tous meal  is  composed  of  mere  trifles.  Here  is 
a  bill  of  fare,  copied  on  the  spot : 

Ham. 

An  enormous  piece  of  roast-beef. 

Fork  and  beans. 

Potato  salad. 

Olives,  pickles,  etc. 

Cheese. 

Crackers. 

Wholesome  and  abundant  fare  as  may  be 
seen.  The  most  substantial  part  is  the  roast- 
beef,  from  which  the  guests  are  privileged  to  cut, 
themselves,  such  slices  as  they  like. 

A  large  pile  of  plates  stands  on  a  sideboard, 
convenient  free  lunch,  together  with  forks  and 
knives,  in  abundance ;  but  the  guests,  as  a  rule, 
prefer  using  their  own  fingers  ;  some  going  so  far 
as  to  help  themselves  by  the  handful  out  of  the 
salad-bowl.  I  shudder  still,  just  to  think  of  it  I 


88  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

The-  head- waiter,  to  whom  I  expressed  my 
horror  and  astonishment,  tried  his  best  to  soothe 
my  feelings. 

"  This  offends  us  less  than  it  does  you.  Time 
is  money,  you  see ;  and  these  gentlemen  are  in 
such  a  hurry  !  " 

Waiters  in  hotels  and  restaurants  are  often 
very  peculiar  types ! 

For  instance,  as  I  have  already  mentioned 
elsewhere,  when  you  sit  down  at  the  table,  a 
waiter  brings  you  a  glass  of  ice-water ;  you  might 
sit  there  for  two  hours  in  company  with  your  ice- 
water  without  anybody  interfering  with  you. 

You  must  call  another  waiter,  who  hands  you 
the  bill-of-fare.  Meantime  you  are  dying  of 
thirst,  and  you  want  something  else  to  drink  be- 
sides water.  The  waiter  who  took  your  order 
goes  leisurely  for  a  third  one,  who  brings  you  at 
last  the  desired  drink ;  but  you  are  mistaken  if 
you  think  yourself  safe  now  :  it  is  another  waiter 
who  alone  has  the  privilege  of  using  the  cork- 
screw. At  least  such  is  the  case  at  the  Brunswick. 
This  annoying  proceeding  having  occurred  several 
times,  I  declared  at  last  that  I  would  leave  the 


EESTAUKANTS — THREE   TYPES    OF   WAITERS.     89 

house  if  this  farce  was  not  dropped.  When  I 
came  to  bi'eakfast  the  following  morning,  every 
one  of  the  twenty  or  thirty  waiters  of  the  res- 
taurant were  drawn  up  in  line  on  my  passage, 
and  every  one  gravely  held  a  corkscrew  in  his 
hand.  Since  then  the  service  at  the  Brunswick 
is  considerably  more  prompt. 

On  the  evening  of  my  arrival  in  New  York, 
I  dined  with  some  friends  in  my  room  at  the 
Fifth  Avenue  Hotel.  The  soup  had  just  been 
served,  when  I  fancied  I  hearct  a  sound  like 
whistling.  I  looked  around  in  astonishment  to 
discover  the  bold  individual.  Of  course,  it  was 
not  one  of  the  guests ;  it  was  the  waiter.  My 
first  impulse  was  to  get  up  and  kick  him  out; 
but  my  friends,  who  had  noticed  the  same  extra- 
ordinary phenomenon,  beckoned  me  to  keep 
still.  We  continued  our  dinner.  As  to  the 
musician,  though  timid  at  first,  he  became  gradu- 
ally bolder,  and  soon  ventured  upon  little  trills, 
finally  essaying  the  most  difficult  pieces.  At  one 
time,  as  if  overcome  by  sudden  melancholy,  he 
would  indulge  in  the  gloomiest  of  tunes ;  then 
suddenly,  and  without  any  apparent  reason,  the 


90  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

liveliest  and  merriest  melodies  burst  forth  from 
his  lips. 

The  dinner  over,  I  called  the  waiter's  attention 
to  the  impropriety  of  which  he  had  been  guilty, 
in  giving  us  music  at  the  table  without  having 
been  requested  to  do  so. 

"  You  see,  sir,  I  love  music,  and  I  use  it  to 
express  my  thoughts.  If  a  dish  is  not  to  my 
taste,  I  whistle  melancholy  airs ;  when  a  dish 
suits  me,  I  whistle  lively  tunes.  But  when  I 
fairly  worship  a  dish  .... 

"  Like  the  frozen  charlotte  we  had  just  now? " 
I  interrupted. 

"  Monsieur  noticed  it  ?  Oh !  then  I  whistle  my 
merriest  tunes." 

"  And  do  you  think  that  tune  from  the  Grande 
Duchesse  you  were  whistling  just  now  particu- 
larly gay  ? " 

"  Your  music,  sir,  is  always  so  funny ! " 

I  don't  very  much  fancy  hearing  my  music 
whistled ;  so  I  requested  the  steward  in  future 
not  to  send  me  a  whistling  waiter. 


RESTAURANTS — THREE   TY^ES   OF   WAITERS.     91 

Second  Sketch  of  a  Waiter. 

This  is  rather  curious  too. 

It  was  in  Philadelphia  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
meeting  the  fellow.  It  was  half-past  nine  in  the 
evening  when  we  arrived  in  that  city,  and  we 
were,  my  friends  and  myself,  literally  starved. 
Having  inquired  for  a  good  restaurant,  we  were 
directed  to  Petry's ;  so  to  Petry's  we  went,  and 
here  we  are  at  the  table. 

«  Waiter ! " 

"Well,  sir?" 

"  Give  us  first  a  good  Julienne  soup." 

The  waiter  makes  a  wry  face. 

"  I  should  not  recommend  it  to  you,  sir ;  the 
vegetables  here  are  so  very  tough." 

u  Well,  never  mind  the  soup ;  have  you  any 
salmon  ? " 

"  Oh !  yes,  sir,  we  have  salmon,  of  course,  and 
we  have  had  it  a  good  long  time  too ;  possibly  it 
may  not  be  as  fresh  as  you  might  wish." 

"  How  then  about  a  Chateaubriand,  nice  and 
rare  ? " 

"  The  cook  don't  know  how  to  get  them  up,  sir." 


92  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

"  Strawberries  ? " 

"  They  are  not  fit  to  eat,  sir." 

"And  the  cheese?" 

"I'll  ask  it  to  come  up,  sir;  it  is  quite  able 
to  walk  by  itself." 

"  I  say,  waiter,  you  will  never  make  your 
master's  fortune." 

"  My  first  duty,  sir,  is  to  please  my  customers." 

"  If  I  was  Mr.  Petry  I  would  soon  discharge 
you." 

"  Mr.  Petry  did  not  wait  for  your  advice,  sir. 
You  see  me  here  to-night  for  the  last  time." 

Whereupon  he  bowed  to  us  in  his  best  style  ; 
after  which  we  had  an  excellent  supper. 

Waiter  Number  Three. 

Delmonico's  waiters'  style  deserves  a  special 
mention. 

We  were  invited  one  evening,  by  a  theatrical 
manager,  to  a  supper,  in  company  with  the  lead- 
ing actors  of  his  theatre.  The  supper  was  ex- 
cellent. Like  all  other  good  things,  it  came  to 
an  end.  The  time  for  a  smoke  and  a  chat  hav- 
ing come,  we  remained  in  our  parlor,  smoking 


RESTAURANTS — THREE   TYPES   OF   WAITERS.     93 

and  sipping  iced  drinks.  There  was  then  no 
further  necessity  for  the  presence  of  a  servant ; 
nevertheless  I  noticed,  not  without  astonish- 
ment, our  waiter  returning  very  often,  and  lis- 
tening to  our  conversation.  As  I  was  not  the 
host,  I  thought  it  best  to  say  nothing.  As  to 
the  other  guests,  none  seemed  to  have  noticed 
this  strange  proceeding. 

When  about  to  part,  I  took  occasion  to  in- 
vite the  manager  and  his  artists  to  a  supper 
in  the  same  restaurant. 

Supper  over,  the  same  occurrence  took  place. 
This  time  I  observed  the  waiter  more  attentive- 
ly, and  I  noticed  that  he  went  all  around  the 
table,  examining  closely  every  one  of  the  guests. 
He  went  away  after  that,  but  returned  within  a 
few  minutes  and  renewed  his  examination  and 
his  perambulations. 

"  Waiter,  you  have  come  several  times  with- 
out being  called;  let  this  be  the  last,  please." 

"  Sorry,  sir,"  he  answered ;  "  but  we  have 
orders  from  Mr.  Delmonico  to  walk  every  five 
mimites  into  every  parlor  and  private  room." 

"  Is  Mr.  Delmonico   connected  with  the  po- 


94  OFFENBACH   IN   AMEKICA. 

lice,  then,  that  he  sends  you  to  listen  to  what 
his  guests  say?" 

"  Don't  know,  sir.  Sure  Mr.  Delmonico 
would  dismiss  me  if  his  instructions  were  not 
strictly  obeyed." 

"  Is  Mr.  Delmonico  afraid  we  are  going  to 
carry  off  his  napkins  and  spoons ;  does  he  think 
we  are  likely  to  forget  for  a  moment  that  a 
decent  behavior  is  de  rigueur  in  his  famous  res- 
taurant ?  I  am  sorry  to  tell  you,  my  friend  ; 
it  is  now  half -past  one,  and  we  intend  remain- 
ing here  till  seven ;  you  will,  therefore,  have 
to  repeat  your  visit  sixty-six  times  more  if  you 
follow  your  instructions." 

"  I'll  do  it,  sir." 

I  need  not  say  that,  after  thus  giving  vent  to 
our  indignation,  we  did  not  carry  out  our  threat. 
We  left  a  little  late  (it  was  nearly  two  o'clock), 
vowing  never  to  be  caught  again  in  this  way. 

New  Yorkers,  who  don't  care  to  have  the 
whole  town  know  in  the  morning  how  they  spent 
the  previous  evening,  will  do  well  to  keep  an 
eye  on  those  waiters  who  obey  Mr.  Delmonico's 
orders  so  punctually. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

AMERICAN  WOMEN — INTRODUCTIONS — CENTRAL  PARK. 

LADIES,  and  even  young  girls,  enjoy  here  the 
greatest  freedom.  I  have  an  idea  that  when 
Lafayette  went  to  America  to  fight  for  Liberty, 
he  only  had  the  ladies  in  view,  for  they  alone  are 
really  free  in  free  America. 

My  friends  Meilhac  and  Ilalevy,  in  the  Vie 
JParisienne,  assert  that  Parisian  ladies  alone 
possess  the  art  of  walking  on  the  street;  but  they 
had  not  seen  American  women  going,  coming, 
getting  out  of  the  way  of  carriages,  picking  up 
their  skirts  with  an  elegant  gesture,  and  revealing 
the  most  exquisite  ankles  with  the  most  consum- 
mate skill. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  there  are  perhaps 
no  women  so  fascinating  as  American  women. 
In  the  first  place,  they  are  handsome  in  a  propor- 
tion wholly  unknown  in  Paris.  Out  of  every  him- 


96  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

dred  you  meet,  there  are  ninety  who  are  lovely. 
Moreover,  they  know  how  to  dress ;  their  toilets 
are  of  the  most  exquisite  and  perfect  taste.  They 
look  as  if  they  had  all  just  come  from  Worth's. 

One  thing  alone  I  shall  venture  to  criticise  on 
their  dress ;  that  is,  the  little  pocket,  located  just 
above  the  knee,  where,  in  olden  times,  the  ladies 
hung  their  purse.  This  pocket  is  exclusively 
devoted  to  the  handkerchief.  "When,  from  a  dis- 
tance, a  bit  of  white  linen  is  seen  issuing  from 
this  aperture,  one  is  apt  to  wonder  whether  an 
accident  has  befallen  the  lady,  and  whether  it  is 
not  a  certain  nameless  garment  which  is  thus 
revealed  through  a  rent  in  the  skirt. 

All  the  American  ladies  you  meet  hold  their 
purses  tightly  in  their  hands,  lest  some  pick- 
pocket— of  which  there  are  perhaps  as  many  in 
New  York  as  in  Paris — should  be  tempted  to 
thrust  a  profane  hand  in  their  pocket.  Shocking! 
In  the  afternoon  young  girls  may  be  seen  alone 
visiting  the  first-class  restaurants  and  taking  their 
lunch  as  quietly  as  an  old  European  bachelor. 
Others  are  seen  on  some  corner  of  Fifth  Avenue, 
or  elsewhere,  waiting  for  their  carriages,  to  which 


AMERICAN   WOMEN — CENTRAL   PARK.  97 

they  have  given  orders  to  meet  them,  and  drive 
to  Central  Park. 

A  strange  fact  for  the  depraved  Parisian  who 
is  fond  of  following  pretty  women  on  the  street, 
is  that  no  one  in  New  York  or  in  any  other  city 
of  the  United  States  would  venture  to  take  up  his 
line  of  march  behind  a  youthful  Yankee  maiden, 
and  still  less  to  speak  to  her,  even  to  offer  her  an 
umbrella. 

In  order  to  be  able  to  offer  her  this  object, 
with  or  without  your  heart,  you  must  be  pre- 
sented, or  introduced,  as  they  say.  But  do  not 
imagine  that  the  formalities  of  an  introduc- 
tion are  either  very  formidable  or  very  diffi- 
cult to  accomplish.  In  the  absence  of  a  com- 
mon friend,  a  simple  "  Personal "  in  the  Herald 
will  answer. 

I  spoke  of  the  Central  Park  just  now.  It 
is  the  favorite  drive  of  the  most  elegant  soci- 
ety ;  but  it  does  not  in  any  way  resemble  our 
Bois  de  Bologue.  Imagine  a  great  rocky  plain, 
skillfully  concealed  beneath  well-kept  lawns,  a 
few  groves  of  fine  trees,  one  or  two  little  lakes, 

and  magnificent  drives ;  such  is  the  New  York 
5 


98  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

Bois.  Every  day  a  procession  of  carriages 
may  be  seen  there  more  numerous  than  on  an 
Italian  corso.  American  carriage  manufactur- 
ers seem  particularly  bent  upon  inventing  the 
most  fantastic  vehicles,  all  of  which  belong  in  a 
degree,  more  or  less  remote,  to  two  leading 
styles :  the  first,  which  is  enormously  heavy,  is 
a  kind  of  landau  of  the  Middle  Ages,  a  mas- 
sive coach,  a  monster  berline,  which,  it  is  true, 
is  capable  of  accommodating  many  people  quite 
comfortably.  But  the  aspect  of  these  houses 
on  wheels  remains  always  horrible.  A  large 
window  behind,  with  an  ever-dangling  curtain, 
makes  it  higher  still.  The  other  style,  on  the 
contrary,  is  of  extreme  lightness.  It  consists 
of  a  diminutive  box,  with  or  without  top, 
seating  one  or  two  persons  at  most,  and  mount- 
ed on  four  great  wheels,  so  thin  and  so  slen- 
der that  they  impart  to  the  carriage  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  huge  spider.  These  buggies,  as 
they  are  called,  have  sometimes  their  tops 
raised ;  but  as  this  is  open  on  all  sides,  they 
always  look  as  if  they  were  in  rags.  It  is  not 
rare  to  see  young  ladies  of  the  highest  classes 


AMERICAN   WOMEN — CENTRAL   PARK.  99 

driving  alone  one  of  these  light  vehicles  drawn 
by  two  powerful  horses. 

The  first  time  I  visited  Central  Park  it 
was  in  company  with  a  gentleman  well  known 
in  New  York,  and  at  almost  every  step  he  met 
some  friend.  I  noticed  that  he  bowed  very 
low  to  some,  while  to  others  he  scarcely  touched 
the  brim  of  his  hat.  I  asked  him  what  it 
meant.  He  replied,  quite  seriously :  "  The  gen- 
tleman to  whom  I  have  just  bowed  so  respect- 
fully belongs  to  the  best  New  York  society, 
and  is  worth  a  million  of  dollars.  The  one 
coming  now  is  only  worth  a  hundred  thou- 
sand, and  so  he  does  not  stand  as  well  as  the 
former  one;  I  treat  him,  therefore,  with  less 
ceremony." 

These  are  shades  which  are  observed  in  Am- 
erica, where  there  is  no  aristocracy  save  that 
of  labor  and  of  the  dollar. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE   STOEY   OF  TWO   STATUES. 

EVER  generous  France  said  to  herself,  one  fine 
morning :  "  What  can  I  do  to  be  agreeable  to 
America  ?  "  Then  the  idea  occurred  to  her  that 
it  might  be  well  to  remind  the  New  World  that 
Lafayette  had  not  been  wholly  a  stranger  in  the 
establishment  of  its  liberties. 

At  once  a  telegram  was  sent  by  the  sub-marine 
cable  to  President  Grant. 

This  dispatch  was  very  brief,  as  every  word 
costs  seventy-five  cents  (gold).  It  read  thus  : 

"  Grant,  President ;  Whitehouse,  Washington : 
Wish  to  please  you  much.  Want  to  build 
statue  Lafayette  for  your  beautiful  country. 
What  think  you  ?  Reply  prepaid." 

The  answer  came  promptly. 

Here  is  a  copy  of  it,  as  communicated  to  me : 

"  Wish  to  please  you  much.     See  no  objection 


THE  STORY  OF  TWO  STATUES.       101 

to  proposition.  Go  on,  build  statue  Lafayette ; 
forward  well  packed,  and  free  of  charges.  Grate- 
ful America." 

This  occurred  when  M.  Thiers  was  President. 
An  appropriation  was  at  once  voted,  and  one  of 
our  most  skillful  sculptors,  M.  Bartholdi,  was 
commissioned  to  place  himself  at  once  in  com- 
munication with  Lafayette.  Three  months  later 
the  statue  was  finished,  and  delivered  to  the  Min- 
ister. 

For  a  whole  year  nothing  more  was  heard  of  it. 

Some  Frenchmen,  residing  in  the  United  States, 
becoming  anxious  on  the  subject,  requested  a 
merchant  who  was  going  to  Europe  on  business 
to  ascertain  the  whereabouts  of  the  statue. 

The  merchant  promptly  called  on  M.  Thiers, 
not  being  aware  that  M.  Thiers  was  no  longer  in 
office. 

"You  must  go  to  my  successor,"  said  M. 
Thiers. 

The  merchant  then  called  on  the  President, 
who  granted  him  an  interview,  and  gave  him  this 
piece  of  advice:  "Apply  at  the  proper  depart- 
ment." 


102  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

Having  discovered  the  proper  department,  the 
gentleman  is  kindly  received,  and  is  told :  "  Ap- 
ply to  the  Director  of  the  Fine  Arts." 

The  Director  is  fortunately  at  home. 

The  merchant  is  thereupon  shown  to  his  pri- 
vate office,  and  the  following  conversation  takes 
place : 

"I  wish  to  find  out  something  about  La- 
fayette's statue." 

"  Wait  a  minute.  My  chief  clerk  will  proba- 
bly be  able  to  tell  you;  as  to  myself,  I  have 
only  been  here  a  few  days." 

The  chief  clerk  is  sent  for. 

"Do  you  know  anything  of  a  statue  of  La- 
fayette?" 

"  It  is  packed  away  in  the  cellar,"  he  replies, 
gravely. 

"  Then,  sir,  will  you  please  order  it  brought 
up,  and  shipped  immediately,  freight  prepaid,  to 
the  United  States  3 " 

But  I  have  no  orders  from  the  Minister,  sir ! 
Even  if  I  had,  I  have  no  funds  available  for  this 
shipment." 

"  The  statue  cannot  forever  remain  in  the  eel- 


THE    STORY   OF   TWO    STATUES.  103 

lar.  France  has  promised  it  to  America.  Amer- 
ica impatiently  awaits  it." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  hinder  you  from  taking  it 
away,  sir  ;  I'll  say  more  :  I  fully  authorize  you 
to  do  so." 

Our  merchant  was  determined  not  to  return 
without  his  Lafayette.  Besides  he  had  his  own 
idea,  and  proceeded  to  carry  it  out.  He  found 
the  Btatue,  and  had  it  shipped  at  once  to  New 
York,  consigned  to  the  French  Consul-General. 

Shortly  after,  having  himself  returned  to  JSTew 
York,  he  promptly  called  on  our  Consul-General, 
when  the  following  conversation  took  place  : 

"  Well,  Mr.  Consul-General,  I  have  just  re- 
turned from  France." 

"  Welcome,  sir." 

"  I  have  brought  it  with  me." 

"  Brought  what  ? " 

"  The  statue." 

"What  statue?" 

"  The  statue  of  Lafayette." 

"  Glad  to  hear  it,"  replies  the  Consul. 

"  I  had  it  shipped  in  bond." 

"  All  right,  sir." 


104  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

"  And  consigned  to  you." 

"  To  me  ?    What  for,  pray  \ " 

"  Because  it's  you  who  will  have  to  pay  the 
freight  and  duties." 

"  Freight  ?  I  ?  The  Government  has  given  me 
no  orders  to  that  effect." 

"  Come,  now,  Mr.  Consul-General,  it  is  only  a 
trifling  matter  of  a  few  thousand  francs." 

O 

Of  course,  the  Consul  could  not  be  persuaded. 
Fortunately  for  our  traveller  and  his  statue,  a 
French  committee  had  been  formed  in  America, 
and  had  the  funds  ready  for  delivering  the  un- 
fortunate Lafayette  from  the  clutches  of  the 
custom-house.  The  most  curious  part  of  the 
story,  however,  is,  that  the  redeemed  Lafayette 
has  made  no  further  progress  since,  and,  at  the 
moment  of  this  writing,  no  suitable  place  has  yet 
been  found  whereon  to  erect  it. 

France,  growing  more  and  more  generous,  said 
to  herself  one  fine  morning :  "  What  could  1  do 
to  be  agreeable  to  America  on  the  occasion  of 
her  Centennial  ?  Suppose  I  present  her  with  a 
statue  ? " 

All  right  for  a  statue,  then.     A  subscription 


THE  STOKY  OF  TWO  STATUES.       105 

was  opened ;  Frenchmen  and  Americans  both 
contributed,  and  it  was  unanimously  resolved 
that  the  statue  should  represent  Liberty  enlight- 
ening the  World.  M.  Bartholdi — above  men- 
tioned— was  commissioned  to  carrry  out  the  work. 
This  new  statue  was  not  subjected  to  all  the  mis- 
haps of  its  predecessor,  Lafayette ;  it  was  finished 
without  troiible,  and  the  sculptor  then  went  over 
to  select  a  proper  site  for  his  Liberty  enlighten- 
ing the  World. 

A  parenthesis :  I  don't  exactly  understand  the 
choice  of  this  subject.  The  New  "World  is  said 
to  possess  all  the  liberties,  and  consequently  needs 
no  further  enlightening. 

I  close  the  parenthesis. 

After  long  examination,  M.  Bartholdi  found  at 
last  the  desired  spot :  a  magnificent  position  ;  a 
natural  pedestal  rising  from  the  waters — in  short, 
Bedloe's  Island. 

"  Here  it  shall  stand  I "  he  exclaimed. 

He  loses  no  time,  hires  workmen,  and  takes 
them  to  the  island  to  dig  the  foundations.  While 
his  men  were  wooing,  the  artist  was  contem- 
plating with  emotion  the  rapidly  deepening 
5* 


106  OFFENBACH  IN  AMERICA. 

excavation,  beholding  in  his  imagination,  and 
already  standing  there,  the  magnificent  monu- 
ment with  which  his  name  was  to  be  eternally 
connected.  Suddenly  Ire  felt  a  hand  touching 
him  on  the  shoulder. 

The  sculptor  looks  around,  and  finds  himself 
in  presence  of  a  policeman. 

"  What  are  you  doing  there  ? "  the  policeman 
graciously  asks. 

"  I  am  digging  the  foundations  for  Liberty 
enlightening  the  World." 

"And  who  has  given  you  permission  to  dig 
this  hole  ? " 

"  Why,  it  is " 

"  You  don't  know  who?  " 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,  it  is  America  herself ! — 
America  who  has  given  me  an  order  for  a  statue, 
and  I  was  looking  for  a  suitable  spot  for  the  erec- 
tion of  the  monument ;  this  one  is  excellent." 

"  This  is  all  very  interesting ;  but  notwith- 
standing all  the  liberty  that  prevails  in  America, 
you  must  learn,  sir,  that  you  have  no  right  to  dig 
such  a  formidable  hole  without  permission  ;  you 
will  please,  therefore,  follow  me  to  the  Mayor." 


THE   STORY   OF   TWO    STATUES.  107 

The  laborers,  who  had  stopped  work  at  the 
sight  of  the  policeman,  had  already  put  on  their 
coats,  and  were  about  leaving  the  ground. 

"  Don't  go,"  shouted  the  sculptor,  in  despair ; 
"  I  shall  be  back  with  the  authorization  in  five 
minutes." 

Five  minutes ! 

The  artist  had  not  foreseen  one  thing,  nay, 
several  things. 

To  build  on  public  property  without  permis- 
sion is  as  much  an  impossibility  in  the  United 
States  as  anywhere  else. 

The  Mayor  could  not  take  the  responsibility 
upon  himself;  so  he  convoked  the  municipal 
council.  The  latter  thought  the  subject  too 
important  to  be  decided  without  consulting  the 
Governor.  The  Governor  could  do  nothing 
without  consulting  the  President  of  the  Repub- 
lic; the  latter  could  only  carry  out  the  deci- 
sions of  the  House  of  Representatives,  which 
must  themselves  be  approved  by  the  Senate. 

Why  not  do  for  Liberty  enlightening  the 
World  what  was  done  for  the  quarantine? 
Build  an  island  on  piles!  Here  is  an  idea 


108  OFFENBACH  IN   AMERICA. 

worthy  of  the  monument.  But  let  the  con- 
struction be  secure,  for  in  case  a  heavy  storm 
should  arise,  Bartholdi's  island  might  be  set 
adrift.  Who  knows  where  chance  might  lead 
it  ?  To  the  French  coast,  perhaps,  or  to  Paris, 
which,  in  the  meantime,  might  have  become  a 
seaport  2  * 

*  The  accounts  of  the  inauguration  of  the  two  statues, 
recently  published  in  the  newspapers,  make  it  unnecessary 
for  the  reader  to  imagine  a  conclusion  to  the  maestro's  hu- 
morous chapter. — French  Pub. 


CHAPTER  X. 

LIBERTY    IN    AMERICA. 

AMERICA  is  indeed  the  land  of  liberty! 

If  you  cannot  dig  a  hole  without  disturbing 
the  whole  government  hierarchy,  you  may,  how- 
ever, go  where  you  like,  marry  whom  you  please, 
and  eat  what  you  fancy. 

There  is,  however,  one  melancholy  restriction 
to  all  this  superabundant  liberty ;  you  cannot 
drink  what  you  please  every  day  in  the  week. 

One  Sunday,  after  leading  my  orchestra  with 
considerable  spirit,  under  a  tropical  heat,  I 
rushed  into  a  bar  for  a  glass  of  beer. 

The  proprietor  of  the  establishment  answered 
with  a  woful  look  : 

"  Impossible,  sir ;  I  have  no  waiters." 

"What!  no  waiters?  And  what  have  you 
done  with  them  all  ? " 

"Every  one  of  them  has  been  arrested  for 


110  OFFENBACH   IN   AMEEICA.. 

having  insisted  upon  serving  drinks  to  our  cus- 
tomers against  the  legal  prohibition." 

"  Is  it  forbidden  to  drink  on  Sunday  ? " 

"Strictly  forbidden,  sir." 

"  I  am  going  to  see  about  that." 

I  run  to  the  Brunswick  and  order  boldly: 

"  A  sherry  cobbler  !  " 

"  I  am  sorry,  sir,  to  be  obliged  to  disappoint 
you ;  the  bar  is  closed,  and  all  my  waiters 
have  been  arrested." 

"But  I  am  dying  with  thirst." 

"The  only  thing  we  can  give  you,  sir,  is  a 
glass  of  soda." 

Such  was,  indeed,  the  state  of  things  in  New 
York.  Three  hundred  waiters  had  been  ar- 
rested on  that  Sunday  for  carrying  refresh- 
ments to  customers.  The  customers  who  called 
for  the  drinks  may  consider  themselves  lucky 
enough  that  they  were  not  arrested  themselves. 

What  a  singular  liberty ! 

Nor  has  anybody  the  right  to  hang  himself 
in  America. 

A  drunkard  tries  to  hang  himself,  but  fails, 
and  is  brought  back  to  life  after  a  few  hours. 


LIBERTY   IN   AMERICA.  Ill 

When  he  has  recovered  his  senses  he  is  taken 
before  the  judge,  who  sentences  him  to  six 
months'  imprisonment.  Usually  it  is  only  three 
months,  but  in  this  case  it  was  an  old  offender, 
who  had  tried  it  once  before.  The  third  time 
he  will  be  condemned  to  death.  In  order  to 
take  one's  own  life  the  previous  authorization 
of  the  Governor  is  required. 

Negro  emancipation  is  another  grand  reform  I 
The  dear  negroes  are  free,  perfectly  free ;  let  me 
tell  you  how. 

They  cannot  enter  either  the  cars  or  any  other 
public  conveyances ;  on  no  account  do  the  theatres 
admit  them ;  and  if  they  are  received  in  the 
restaurants,  it  is  only  to  wait  on  the  white  guests. 
This  is  an  illustration  of  Liberty,  Equality,  and 
Fraternity. 

You  think,  perhaps,  that  only  negroes  are 
deprived  of  certain  liberties;  you  are  mis- 
taken. 

The  proprietor  of  the  Cataract  Hotel,  at  Nia- 
gara Falls,  had  the  following  advertisement 
inserted  in  the  principal  daily  papers : 

"  Being  a  citizen  of  a  perfectly  free  country, 


112  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

and  having  the  right  to  do  as  I  please  in  my  own 
house,  I  have  decided  : 

"  First  and  only  Article  — '  From  and  after 
this  day,  Jews  will  be  excluded  from  this 
hotel.'  " 

It  may  be  interesting  to  add  that  after  a  lapse 
of  two  years  this  liberal  hotel-keeper  was  com- 
pelled to  give  up  his  establishment  for  want  of 
business. 

The  first  Sunday  I  was  at  leisure  after  my 
arrival  in  Philadelphia,  I  proposed  making  a 
visit  to  the  Exhibition.  I  found  it  closed.  The 
exhibitors  were  restrained  from  showing  their 
products  on  Sunday. 

I  thought  of  going  to  the  theatre  in  the  even- 
ing. Closed  too.  And  the  concerts  also,  just 
the  same  as  in  New  York. 

Sunday  is  the  only  day  the  working  man  can 
call  his  own.  He  might  avail  himself  of  his  few 
hours  of  rest  for  his  instruction  and  recreation, 
or  to  improve  himself  in  his  calling  by  the  con- 
templation of  the  admirable  industrial  produc- 
tions which  the  foremost  manufacturers  of  both 
hemispheres  exhibit  here!  The  exhibition  is 


LIBEKTY   IN   AMERICA.  113 

closed  for  him.  Again,  he  might  seek  to  refresh 
his  mind  by  witnessing  some  play  in  a  good 
theatre.  Yet  on  this  day  everything  is  closed : 
exhibition,  theatres,  concerts.  If  there  is  any 
one  worthy  of  respect,  it  is  a  working  man. 
After  his  week's  toil  he  needs  one  day  of  mental 
recreation.  He  may  take  his  family  out,  but  he 
cannot  enjoy  with  them  the  refreshment  even  of 
a  glass  of  beer.  And  what  is  the  consequence  ? 
"While  his  wife  and  children  go  to  church  or  take 
a  walk,  he  stops  at  home  and  takes  to  whiskey. 

While  almost  unrestricted  liberty  is  given  to 
industry,  invention,  and  manufactures,  the  results 
prove  often  somewhat  inconvenient.  If  an 
American  conceives  an  idea,  he  proceeds  at 
once  to  carry  it  out.  See,  for  instance,  the  rapid 
development  of  the  cars  which  have  in  such  a 
short  time  driven  out  the  omnibuses.  Just  now 
the  cars  are  all  the  fashion ;  they  are  everywhere, 
and  as  the  streets  can  only  afford  space  for  a 
limited  number,  one  inventor  has  imagined  to 
construct  elevated  railways,  and  has  already 
commenced  the  execution  of  his  project.  Here  is 
an  incident  connected  with  this : 


114  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

A  lady  who  had  jnst  purchased  a  charming 
little  residence  on  Broadway,  left  for  the  country 
immediately  after,  and  returned  after  five  or  six 
months  to  take  up  her  quarters  in  the  new  house. 
Having  arrived  late  at  night,  she  slept  soundly. 
The  next  morning,  a  sound  like  that  of  thunder, 
and  shrill  whistles,  suddenly  awake  her.  She 
runs  to  the  window : 

"  Belle  sans  ornement,  dans  le  simple  appareil, 
D'une  beaute  qu'on  vient,  cTarracher  au  sommeil." 

She  beholds  a  passing  train,  with  passengers 
gazing  curiously  out  of  every  window.  She 
faints. 

When  she  recovered  her  senses,  her  first  thought, 
even  before  closing  the  window,  was  to  send  for 
a  lawyer,  and  commence  a  suit  for  damages 
against  the  new  company.  The  house,  which  had 
cost  her  two  hundred  thousand  dollars,  was  now 
only  worth  one  quarter  of  that  sum ;  but  she  had 
the  privilege  of  selling  it  again. 

There  is  one  day  in  the  year  when  the  Ameri- 
cans are  allowed  absolutely  unrestricted  liberty, 
the  Fourth  of  July,  the  anniversary  of  the 


LIBERTY   EST   AMERICA.  ]  15 

national  independence.  Everything  is  permitted 
on  this  day,  and  Heaven  knows  what  use  and 
abuse  are  made  of  this  license!  I  have  pre- 
served a  number  of  the  Courrier  des  Etats-  Unis, 
which  gives  some  curious  incidents  of  that  me- 
morable day. 

Leaving  aside  many  accidents  of  minor  in- 
terest, I  will  confine  myself  to  the  more  serious 
casualties.  The  article  is  headed  :  The  Reverse 
of  the  Medal. 

"  Our  first  accounts  of  the  casualties  and  acci- 
dents occurring  in  New  York  were  very  incom- 
plete. 

"A  young  girl  of  nineteen,  Mary  Henley, 
residing  at  No.  261  Sixteenth  street,  was  walking 
with  two  of  her  friends  on  the  Eighth  Avenue. 
Near  twenty-second  street,  fire-crackers  were 
thrown  at  the  girls,  in  celebration  of  the  glorious 
day.  They  paid  no  attention  to  it,  however, 
and  it  was  only  when  they  had  reached  the  next 
block  that  Mary  Henley  felt  herself  burning, 
and  her  dress  on  fire.  Terror-stricken,  she  started 
running,  her  clothes  ablaze  from  her  head  to  her 
feet.  The  efforts  of  several  men  were  required 


116  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

to  hold  her,  so  agonizing  were  her  pains.  The 
flames  were  extinguished,  but  it  was  too  late. 
Mary  Henley  was  injured  beyond  possibility  of 
recovery.  During  the  pyrotechnical  exhibition 
in  the  City  Hall  Park,  a  bomb  exploded  in  the 
midst  of  a  group  of  spectators :  there  were  five 
wounded,  three  of  whom  are  in  a  dangerous  con- 
dition. 

"  Finally,  we  have  before  us  a  list  of  forty-nine 
persons,  mostly  children,  wounded  during  the 
day  or  night  on  the  Fourth  of  July.  Some  have 
lost  an  eye,  others  a  hand  ;  some  have  had  a  leg 
or  a  rib  broken ;  others  the  face  or  other  parts  of 
their  body  badly  burned.  A  few  have  injured 
themselves  in  handling  fire-arms,  throwing  crack- 
ers, and  falling  from  roofs  and  windows.  But 
nine-tenths  at  least  ascribe  their  wounds  to  pistol- 
balls  fired  by  'unknown  persons.'  It  would 
only  be  charitable  to  believe  that  these  'un- 
known persons '  were  simply  awkward  fellows. 

"These  disastrous  occurrences  are  not  confined 
to  the  city  of  New  York  ;  every  large  city  in  the 
United  States  suffers  from  them. 

"  The  celebration  of  the  Centennial  in  "Wash- 


LIBERTY   IN   AMERICA.  117 

iugton  '  was  very  quiet.'  What  would  have  hap- 
pened had  it  been  more  brilliant  ? 

"  The  rowdy  element  was  very  noisy,  and  four 
assassinations  were  committed  by  drunkards  be- 
fore nightfall. 

"Many  people  visited  Washington's  tomb  at 
Mount  Vernon  ;  unfortunately,  even  this  sacred 
spot  was  not  free  from  riot  and  bloodshed.  Sev- 
eral drunken  men  had  a  fight  with  knives.  No 
arrests  were  made." 

In  Philadelphia  now : 

"  The  Fourth  of  July  was  most  disastrous  for 
Philadelphia.  Besides  the  conflagration  men- 
tioned in  another  column,  which  resulted  in  the 
death  of  four  persons,  this  city  suffered  a  ruinous 
fire,  caused  by  the  foolish  recklessness  with  which 
fire-arms  are  handled.  Boys  were  firing  a  can- 
non near  the  lumber-yard  of  Collins  &  Co.,  at 
the  foot  of  Laurel  street.  A  burning  piece  of 
wad  fell  on  some  shingles,  and  set  fire  to 
them. 

"  Thus  began  a  fire  that  destroyed  property  to 
the  amount  of  $250,000,  and  reduced  to  ashes 
the  whole  square  situated  between  the  river 


118  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

bank  and  the  east  side  of  Delaware  Avenue  and 
Laurel  and  Shackamaxon  streets. 

"  Every  cannon  shot  may  be  estimated,  on  an 
average,  to  have  caused  a  similar  loss,  the  most 
of  which  falls  upon  the  insurance  companies." 

These  few  extracts  will  give  an  idea  of  the 
number  of  accidents,  fires,  and  deaths  occurring 
on  the  Fourth  of  July  in  the  United  States. 

As  to  myself,  I  am  free  to  confess  that  these 
excesses  increase  greatly  my  respect  for  our 
effete  governments,  which  forbid  squarely  all  lib- 
erties that  endanger  the  lives  of  citizens,  and 
which  afford  us  the  protection  of  our  brave  gens- 
d'armes.  I  have  seen  unlimited  liberty.  Thank 
you  !  I  prefer  our  sergents-de-ville. 

Conclusion : 

"  The  centenary  of  our  independence  has  been 
brilliantly  celebrated  in  Detroit,"  says  the  Free 
Press,  of  that  city ;  "  every  citizen  has  had  his 
share  of  it.  We  will  mention,  as  an  instance, 
the  doings  of  one  family — only  one  of  the  most 
respected  of  the  State. 

"  At  six  o'clock  in  the  morning,  as  the  head  of 
the  family  was  trying  to  fasten  a  flag  to  the 


LIBERTY   IN   AMERICA.  119 

second  story  window  of  his  house,  he  fell  into 
the  street.  He  had  the  misfortune  to  smash 
three  flower-pots  and  one  of  his  own  ribs.  This 
incident  proved  the  beginning  of  indescribable 
disorders.  Amid  cheers  in  honor  of  Indepen- 
dence Day,  the  neighbors  poured  lemonade  and 
cognac  down  his  throat;  the  physicians  had  a 
fight  about  who  should  take  care  of  him ;  Mrs. 
Hamerlin  tumbled  down  the  whole  length  of  the 
back  stairs,  in  her  haste  to  reach  the  kitchen, 
where  Johnny  was  exploding  crackers  in  the 
oven.  She  arrived  all  safe,  only  her  cheers  for 
the  Fourth  of  July  had  to  be  discontinued  until 
she  had  recovered  her  breath.  The  father  and 
mother  being  used  up,  the  young  Hamerlins 
proceeded  to  make  the  best  of  it. 

"  Johnny,  greatly  disappointed  at  being  unable 
to  fire  his  crackers  in  the  oven,  took  half  a  dozen 
of  them  at  once  in  his  hands  and  mouth:  off 
they  go,  and  as  a  consequence,  poor  Johnny's 
mouth  will  stay  shut  for  a  long  time. 

"  The  youngest  ignited  a  train  of  gunpowder 
and  scorched  his  hands.  He  went  out  and  got 
wounded  in  the  leg. 


120  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

"  The  girl  got  a  torpedo  in  the  right  ear,  and  a 
stray  bullet  missed  the  left  ear. 

"  In  a  month  from  now  the  whole  family  shall 
have  recovered,  and  in  the  meantime  Mr.  Ham- 
erlin  would  not  take  ten  thousand  dollars  for  his 
Fourth  of  July  fun." 


CHAPTER  XI. 

SOCIETIES   AND   PKOCESSIONS. 

THE  Americans  have  a  passion  for  forming 
associations,  with  and  without  purposes ;  any 
pretext  is  sufficient.  The  names  of  all  their 
corporations  would  fill  a  volume;  the  largest 
are :  the  Temperance  Society,  the  Free-Masons, 
the  Old-Fellows,  the  Grand  Army  of  the  Repub- 
lic, etc.,  etc. 

These  corporations  get  up  processions  for  any 
manifestation  they  wish  to  make.  Omnibuses, 
cars,  carriages,  pedestrians,  everything  and  every- 
body must  stop  before  their  triumphant  passage, 
and  they  absorb  all  public  attention  and  curi- 
osity. 

Honorary  symbols,  decorations,  ribbons  of  all 
colors,  and  sashes  with  the  most  brilliant  em- 
broideries (even  plumes  are  to  be  seen)  play  the 

principal  part.     The  Americans  like  it  much,  as 
6 


122  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

they  can  get  no  Government  decorations.  In 
this  way  some  regiments  have  decorated  each 
other  during  the  civil  war. 

They  have  much  military  music;  but  what 
music !  My  nerves  shudder  yet ! 

I  saw  a  procession  in  Philadelphia.  Stand- 
ards, banners,  decorations,  carriages,  for  all  the 
world  like  the  grand  march  in  a  fairy  play. 

One  of  the  bands  was  made  up  of  at  least 
twelve  musicians,  who  were  teazing  a  lot  of  cor- 
net a  pistons  and  trombones,  marching  two  by 
two,  the  leader  in  the  centre  playing  the  clario- 
net. Behind  him  came  the  triangle  and  kettle- 
drum. 

What  amused  me  most  was  to  notice  the  fellow 
who  carried  the  bass  drum,  and  who,  while  vigor- 
ously pounding  his  instrument,  made  every  effort 
to  maintain  it  in  a  horizontal  position,  in  order 
that  every  one  might  have  full  view  of  a  drug- 
gist's advertisement,  spread  out  in  fine  black 
letters  over  the  sheepskin. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

ADVERTISING  AND  PUFFING. 

THE  sign  on  that  bass  drum  leads  me  to  say  a 
word  of  the  system  of  advertising  prevailing  in 
the  United  States. 

It  is  well  known  that  Americans  are  fond  of 
advertisements ;  but  it  is  necessary  to  travel  all 
over  their  country,  to  visit  their  large  cities,  their 
smallest  towns,  and  even  the  wildest  sites,  in 
order  to  realize  to  what  extent  they  carry  their 
passion. 

I  once  met  in  New  York  two  young  men 
walking  arm  in  arm,  and  on  their  back  was 
pinned  a  large  placard, 

GREAT   SALE    OF   SEWING   MACHINES, 
No.  1000  BKOADWAY. 

Was  it  a  "  sell  ? "  Were  these  gentlemen 
really  travelling  for  some  house?  I  rather  in- 


124  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

cline  towards  the  latter  hypothesis — at  any  rate, 
everybody  turned  around,  laughed,  and  looked  at 
the  sign. 

The  object  was  accomplished.  Advertisements 
are  to  be  found  everywhere,  and  of  every  possible 
style.  Not  a  flag  hanging  out  of  a  window  but  is 
disfigured  with  a  sign.  Streets  are  here  and 
there  crossed  by  triumphal  arches,  the  only  object 
of  which  is  to  give  notice  of  forthcoming  sales. 
The  walls  are  papered  with  bills  of  enormous 
size;  mustard  manufacturers  have  their  name 
and  address  engraved  on  the  very  pavements. 
Cards  and  circulars  are  showered  in  the  cars  and 
omnibuses,  and  numberless  hand-bills  hang  in- 
side. 

Sozodont !  there  is  a  word  I  have  seen  every- 
where, and  of  the  meaning  of  which  I  am  still 
ignorant.  It  must  certainly  be  an  advertisement. 
An  American  would  have  inquired  what  it 
meant.  But,  like  a  true  Frenchman,  I  did  not 
feel  sufficient  interest  in  the  matter  to  do  so. 

However,  while  travelling  in  the  cars,  I  caught 
sight  of  the  following  words  on  a  telegraph  pole : 
Only  Cure  for  Rheumatism.  Neither  more  nor 


ADVERTISING   AND   PUFFING.  125 

less !  Was  it  because  I  know  so  many  people 
afflicted  with  that  disease,  or  was  it  on  account  of 
the  novelty  of  the  advertisement,  I  know  not,  but 
I  began,  in  spite  of  myself,  to  watch  the  tele- 
graph poles.  A  mile  further,  I  saw  it  again,  but 
still  without  any  address ;  further  on,  the  same 
thing,  and  so  on  for  some  ten  miles.  On  the 
eleventh  I  read,  to  my  great  delight,  the  name 
and  address  of  the  advertiser;  I  came  very  near 
purchasing  some  of  his  drug  as  I  left  the  train. 
The  American  advertiser  plays  upon  the  human 
brain  as  a  musician  does  on  his  piano. 

At  night,  gas,  electric  light,  petroleum,  and 
even  magic  lanterns  are  utilized  as  a  means  of 
advertising.  Men  walk  about,  inside  pasteboard 
cages  lighted  inside,  and  bearing  suggestive  in- 
scriptions on  each  of  their  four  faces. 

A  poor  horse  falls  from  fatigue  after 
dragging  fifty  passengers  all  day  long;  at  once 
a  boy  springs  forward  and  sticks  a  bill  on  his 
nose: 

GARGLING  OIL. 


GOOD  FOR  MAN  AND  BEAST. 


126  OFFENBACH  IN  AMERICA. 

I  found  the  same  advertisement  on  an  almost 
inaccessible  point  at  Niagara  Falls. 

This  passion  for  advertisements  has  been  fairly 
carried  beyond  the  limits  of  probability.  Here 
is  one  we  find  in  the  newspapers  on  the  subject  of 
a  concert  at  Gilmore's,  on  the  9th  of  July : 

GRAND  SACRED  CONCERT 

IN  HONOR  OF 
THE  EMPEROR  OF  BRAZIL, 

And  last  appearance  in  public  of  His  Majesty  Dom  Pedro 
previous  to  his  departure  for  Europe. 

The  words  EMPEROR  OF  BRAZIL  are  made  very 
prominent,  just  as  if  it  were  the  name  of  a  famous 
prima  donna  or  a  star  tragedian. 

Imagine,  for  a  moment,  the  manager  stepping 
before  the  public  and  saying :  "  The  Emperor  of 
Brazil,  suffering  from  sudden  indisposition,  re- 
quests your  indulgence  and  relies  upon  your 
patience." 

Or  else : 

"  The  Emperor  of  Brazil,  taken  with  a  sudden 


ADVERTISING    AND   PUFFING.  127 

sore  throat,  begs  your  pardon,  if  he  cannot  appear 
for  the  last  time  this  evening,"  as  advertised. 

The  people  would  be  absolutely  entitled  to  de- 
mand their  money  back. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE   TUKF — JEKOME   PARK. 

I  WENT  to  the  races  at  Jerome  Park. 

The  grounds  are  a  continuation  of  Central 
Park,  which  I  have  already  described,  and  belong 
to  a  wealthy  banker,  Mr.  Belmont. 

The  reader  must  not  expect  me  to  speak  of  the 
sport  with  the  wit  and  savoir-faire  of  my  friend 
Milton,  of  the  Figaro /  in  fact,  I  hardly  know 
what  a  starter  is.  I  can  only  say  that  I  saw  in 
Jerome  Park,  around  a  somewhat  muddy  track, 
what  may  be  seen  on  any  other  race-course. 
Many  horses,  many  jockeys,  many  ladies,  and 
many  gentlemen.  If  the  horses  seemed  to  me 
rather  large,  the  jockeys  appeared  somewhat  too 
lean ;  but  I  am  not  sure.  The  only  thing  I  can 
positively  assert  is  that  here,  as  everywhere  else, 
there  are  always  a  horse  and  a  jockey  who  get  in 
first,  consequently  there  are  winners  who  rejoice 


THE  TURF — JEROME  PAKE.        129 

and  losers  who  grumble.  There  is  betting,  as 
elsewhere. 

The  public  seemed  rather  lacking  in  enthusi- 
asm. In  France  and  in  England  the  finish  always 
draws  forth  cries,  shouts,  cheers,  hurrahs. 

For  a  few  seconds  every  one  seems  carried  away 
by  the  excitement  of  rapid  motion,  the  charm  of 
the  spectacle  or  the  expectations  of  gambling. 

Even  veteran  sportsmen  cannot  see  the  decisive 
moment  approaching  without  manifesting  their 
interest  in  the  struggle  in  some  way,  and  gene- 
rally in  the  most  noisy  manner.  Here,  not  a 
sound  at  the  start,  and  at  the  finish  a  mere  buzz, 
at  once  repressed  and  followed  by  impassive 
silence. 

The  noise,  the  bravos,  the  cheers,  which  impart 
such  life  and  animation  to  Longchamps  and  Chan- 
tilly  are  wholly  wanting  in  Jerome  Park. 

As  my  attention  was  not  entirely  occupied  by 
the  races,  1  had  ample  time  to  look  around  me, 
and  I  happened  to  witness  a  curious  and  charac- 
teristic scene : 

In  the  interval  between  two  races  a  gentleman 

was  quietly  walking  up  and  down  on  the  track, 
6* 


130  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

when  a  thin  streak  of  bluish  smoke  is  suddenly 
seen  arising  from  his  coat-pocket,  then  growing 
thicker  and  becoming  at  last  a  dense  cloud.  The 
gentleman  had  an  incipient  conflagration  in  his 
pocket,  and  the  flames  now  became  visible. 

"  You  are  on  fire  1 "  every  one  was  shouting.  He 
must  certainly  have  felt  it  by  this  time,  for  the 
flames  were  already  scorching  his  hips.  But,  with 
the  coolness  of  a  real  Yankee,  the  gentleman  on  fire 
was  trying,  first  of  all,  to  save  his  pocket-book. 
Fortunately,  just  as  he  drew  it  from  the  depths 
of  his  jacket,  some  policemen  had  already  got 
hold  of  him  and  were  tearing  off  his  burning 
garment.  He  walked  off  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  as 
cool  as  ever,  thanking  the  public  and  the  police- 
men with  a  grateful  glance. 

I  had  already  had  occasion  to  admire  the 
elegant  dresses  of  the  American  ladies  ;  this  day 
my  impression  became  even  more  established. 
They  wore  at  the  races  their  freshest  and  bright- 
est toilets. 

Embellished  by  the  presence  of  all  these  ele- 
gant creatures,  the  view  of  the  race- course  was 
simply  lovely. 


THE  TUEF — JEKOME  PARK.         131 

While  acknowledging,  with  pleasure,  the  ex- 
cellent taste  of  American  ladies,  I  regret  being 
unable  to  say  as  much  of  the  gentlemen. 

They  dress  generally  very  plainly,  and  even 
negligently.  At  the  theatres  and  concerts,  you 
see  them  wearing  those  horrid  suits,  all  of  the 
same  material,  which  we  hardly  ever  venture 
upon,  except  in  the  country,  or  at  the  watering 
places.  Low-crowned  hats  and  soft  hats  are 
much  worn,  and  the  most  distinguished  gentle- 
men do  not  hesitate  to  escort,  in  this  plight,  the 
most  exquisitely-dressed  ladies  to  a  party  or  a 
dinner.  Per  contra,  many  wear  white  neckties  at 
all  times  of  day  and  night,  and  the  contrast  be- 
tween this  ceremonious  article  of  dress  and  the 
rest  of  the  costumes  is  very  strange  indeed. 

Something  rather  surprising  for  strangers  is  to 
see  that  all  Americans  have,  near  the  waist,  and 
beneath  the  skirts  of  their  coats,  a  rather  marked 
protuberance.  This  is  caused  by  the  revolver 
which  they  generally  carry  in  that  locality,  in  a 
pocket  specially  made  for  the  purpose. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE   AMERICAN  NEWSPAPER   PRESS. 

NEWSPAPERS  have  in  New  York  a  far  greater 
importance  than  in  Europe. 

It  must  not  be  taken,  for  granted  that  the  press 
in  the  New  World  is  also  free  too. 

While  in  Europe  the  governments  watch  and 
control  the  newspapers,  here  the  religious  sects 
and  political  associations  perform  this  duty  quite 
efficiently. 

The  editors,  it  must  be  confessed,  submit 
readily  to  this  servitude,  and  make  the  best  of  it. 

Being  familiar  with  the  principal  establish- 
ments of  the  French  press,  I  naturally  wished  to 
visit  those  of  the  leading  New  York  papers. 

New  York  editors  are  better  off  than  ours  in 
regard  to  space. 

Imagine  immense  establishments,  vast  build- 
ings, and  inside  these  palaces  of  the  American 


THE   AMERICAN   NEWSPAPER  PRESS.  133 

press  a  continual  going  and  coming,  and  the 
activity  of  a  bee-hive. 

The  journals  of  New  York  have,  like  those  of 
Paris,  located  themselves  in  the  busiest  part  of 
the  city.  In  order  to  secure  prompt  and  relia- 
ble information,  a  newspaper  should  be  placed  in 
the  midst  of  a  business  centre. 

It  is  on  Broadway,  therefore,  that  the  offices  of 
the  representative  American  press  are  to  be 
found. 

There  is  no  dfficulty  in  finding  these.  If  it  is 
in  day-time,  walk  boldly  in  the  tallest  building ; 
you  will  be  sure  to  be  right.  The  New  York 
Tribune  building,  for  instance,  is  nine  stories 
high. 

If  it  is  at  night,  open  your  eyes ;  the  most 
brilliantly  illuminated  edifice  is  sure  to  be  the 
very  one  you  are  looking  for.  Behind  those 
shining  panes  the  journalists  are  at  work.  They 
say  sometimes,  figuratively,  in  France,  that  a 
newspaper  is  a  light-house;  in  America  it  would 
be  a  literal  fact. 

The  offices  are  most  complete  and  comforta- 
ble. A  telegraph,  like  the  one  already  mentioned, 


134  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

is  here  continually  at  work.  The  composing, 
stereotyping,  and  press  rooms  are  admirably 
equipped  with  improved  machinery  and  appli- 
ances, 

Here  are  now  some  particulars  about  the  lead- 
ing New  York  journals : 

The  first  is  the  New  York  Herald,  founded 
some  thirty  years  ago  by  Mr.  James  Gordon 
Bennett* 

Its  present  circulation  is  about  70,000  copies. 
Each  number  contains,  according  to  want,  eight, 
sixteen,  and  even  twenty- four  pages. 

In  size,  it  is  about  one-quarter  larger  than 
the  Paris  papers. 

Small  types  being  generally  used  in  America, 
it  is  easy  to  see  how  much  news,  editorial  matter, 
and  advertisements  can  be  crowded  in  an  aver- 
age number  of  the  New  York  Herald.  To  speak 
only  of  advertisements,  there  are  twenty-eight 
columns  of  them,  during  the  dull  season.  In 
lively  times,  the  number  of  columns  reaches 
sixty.  The  price  of  a  single  insertion  varies  from 
twenty-five  cents  to  one  dollar. 

Its  advertising  patronage,  copious  news,  and 


THE   AMEEICAN   NEWSPAPER   PRESS.  135 

vast  circulation,  make  of  the  New  York  Herald 
the  leading  newspaper  of  the  United  States. 
The  personnel  required  for  such  an  adminis- 
tration is,  of  course,  enormous.  Seventy  com- 
positors, twenty  pressmen,  twenty  office  clerks, 
and  a  legion  of  boys.  So  much  for  the  man- 
ual labor,  without  counting  an  army  of  carriers 
and  venders. 

The  editorial  staff  of  the  New  York  Herald 
is  scattered  over  all  parts  of  the  globe.  Among 
its  oldest  contributors  I  may  mention  Mr.  Con- 
nery,  a  musical  critic  of  great  abilty. 

To  Mr.  Bennett,  Jr.,  I  have  devoted  a  place 
among  my  portraits.  He  is  at  once  proprietor 
and  manager  of  the  establishment)  and,  with- 
out doubt,  the  most  interesting  personage  in  it. 

Next  to  the  Herald  comes  the  New  York 
Times,  which  prints  40,000  numbers  daily.  It 
is  remarkable  for  the  influence  which  its  opin- 
ions and  literary  authority  exercise  on  the  pub- 
lic. It  was  founded  by  Messrs.  Raymond, 
Jones,  and  "Wesley. 

Mr.  Raymond,  a  distinguished  statesman,  re- 
tained the  chief  editorship  until  his  death,  and 


136  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

was  succeded  by  Mr.  Jennings,  of  the  London 
Times.  The ,  present  principal  proprietor  is 
Mr.  Jones,  a  man  of  great  personal  influence. 
He  upholds  firmly  the  reputation  of  the  estab- 
lishment, and  under  his  vigilant  management 
it  ranks  all  other  American  papers  in  point  of 
purity  and  elegance.  The  chief  editor  is  Mr. 
Ford,  a  talented  writer.  Mr.  Schwab  writes  the 
critiques  on  music  and  the  drama.  They  are 
both  men  whose  merit  and  ability  are  fully 
equal  to  their  respective  duties.  The  New  York 
Times  uses  Walker  presses,  which  require  only 
two  men  to  work  them,  and  print  from  15,000 
to  17,000  copies  per  hour. 

The  New  York  Tribune,  founded  by  Horace 
Greeley,  an  eminent  philanthropist  and  writer, 
and  most  decided  abolitionist.  He  was  a  can- 
didate for  the  Presidency  in  1872,  but  was 
defeated.  He  died  of  grief  and  disappoint- 
ment shortly  after. 

This  journal  advocates  the  theories  of  modern 
reformers,  including  women's  rights.  Mr.  Jay 
Gould,  formerly  Fisk's  partner,  is  the  proprietor. 
The  paper  is  well  written,  but  seems  to  have 


THE   AMEKICAN   NEWSPAPER   PEESS.  1ST 

lost  some  of  its  former  influence.  Mr.  Winter, 
an  excellent  and  amiable  writer,  is  the  drama- 
tic critic.  Mr.  Hassard  is  the  musical  critic, 
and  a  fanatic  admirer  of  Wagner. 

The  World.  Democratic  organ.  12,000  to 
15,000  numbers  daily.  The  chief  editor,  Mr. 
Hurlbut,  has  travelled  and  seen  much.  He  is  an 
accomplished  gentleman  and  a  writer  of  talent. 
The  inconsistency  of  his  political  opinions  is 
sometimes  criticised  by  his  fellow-journalists. 
But  is  this  really  a  fault  nowadays  ?  The  mu- 
sical critic,  Mr.  Wheeler,  is  a  brilliant  feuiUe- 
toniste. 

The  Sun,  average  daily  circulation  120,000 
copies,  sells  for  two  cents.  Editor  and  prin- 
cipal proprietor,  Mr.  Dana,  a  first-class  journal- 
ist, who  speaks  all  languages,  and  excels  in 
condensing  the  news  and  unearthing  scan- 
dals. 

The  Evening  Post,  Republican.  Large  circu- 
lation. The  editor,  Mr.  William  Cullen  Bryant, 
is  a  well-known  American  poet. 

The  Evening  Telegram,  published  by  the 
New  York  Herald.  This  paper  differs  from 


138  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

all  the  others  in  this,  that  it  is  a  sort  of  con- 
tinuous publication.  It  is  always  being  set  up, 
always  in  press,  always  selling.  A  dispatch  is 
received ;  quick,  an  edition  is  struck  off,  and  as 
dispatches  keep  coming  all  day 

Le  Courrier  des  Etats-  Unis  (French) ;  an  ex- 
cellent paper,  founded  forty  years  ago.  The 
journal  is  edited  with  praiseworthy  care  and 
holds  a  prominent  position  among  foreign  pub- 
lications. Mr.  Frederic  Gaillardet,  to  whom  it 
owes  its  first  prosperity,  sold  it  to  Mr.  Charles 
Lasalle,  the  present  proprietor.  Mr.  Leon  Meu- 
nier,  his  son-in-law  and  partner,  is  the  chief 
editor.  Mr.  Charles  Yilla  is  the  critic. 

Le  Messager  Franco-Americain  (French) ;  ul- 
tra Rebublican ;  established  ten  years  ago.  Mr. 
De  Mavil,  proprietor.  Mr.  Louis  Cortambert, 
chief  editor. 

The  Staats-Zeitung  (German)  prints  25,000  to 
30,000  copies  daily.  An  ably  written  and 
accomplished  journal,  of  great  political  influence 
in  New  York.  It  is  located  in  a  fine  building, 
opposite  the  Times,  which  its  manager,  Mr. 
Oswald  Ottendorfer,  has  erected.  He  is  an 


THE   AMERICAN   NEWSPAPER   PRESS.  139 

Austrian  by  birth  ;  but  has  resided  in  America 
some  twenty-five  years.  He  is  an  active  politi- 
cian and  able  writer.  The  founder  of  the  journal 
was  Mrs.  Uhl,  a  woman  of  rare  energy.  The 
beginning  was  somewhat  rough.  Like  Mr. 
Bennett,  the  lady-editor  often,  at  first,  deliv- 
ered the  papers  herself  to  her  subscribers. 

The  Associated  Press  answers  to  our  Agence- 
Havas. 

The  Reporters'  Association  deserves  a  special 
mention.  Members  of  the  craft,  representing  all 
the  papers,  have  formed  a  sort  of  partnership,  for 
the  purpose  of  procuring  and  communicating  to 
each  other  all  accounts  of  accidents,  crimes,  etc. 
A  certain  number  attend  at  police  head-quarters, 
whence,  in  case  of  any  event  of  note,  they  may 
be  called  by  telegraph.  A  few  take  charge  of 
the  civil  courts.  Some  fifteen  meet  every  morn- 
ing at  the  office  of  the  paper,  and  are  dis- 
patched by  the  news-editor  to  the  different  wards. 
They  all  understand  short-hand  and  telegraph- 
ing. 

By  means  of  a  telegraph  instrument,  they  are 
able  to  report  events  which  have  occurred  a 


140  OFFENBACH   EST   AMERICA. 

a  thousand  miles  away,  so  that  the  paper  may 
publish  five  or  six  columns  on  the  subject  of  a 
crime  or  an  accident  the  very  morning  after  its 
occurrence. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

A   FEW   CHARACTER   SKETCHES. 

UP  to  this  time  I  have  spoken  principally  of 
manners  and  things  in  America.  When  1  have 
had  to  bring  a  personage  before  the  public,  I 
have  generally  made  use  of  an  impersonal  desig- 
nation. I  mentioned,  for  instance,  that  I  had 
seen,  in  such  a  place,  "  an  odd  character"  in  such 
another,  "  a  pretty  woman.1"  In  order  to  give 
my  readers  a  more  complete  and  more  perfect 
idea  of  Americans,  I  will  now  endeavor  to  sketch 
a  fe-w  pen-portraits. 

I  only  wish  that  this  gallery  of  contemporary 
pictures  may  afford  as  much  gratification  to  the 
readers  of  this  book  as  I  derived  myself  from 
personal  intercourse  with  the  originals. 

MR.  BENNETT. 

Mr.  Bennett  is  the  son  of  the  celebrated  James 


142  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

Gordon  Bennett,  who  founded  the  New  York 
Herald  some  thirty  years  ago.  The  New  York 
Herald  yields  an  income  of  two  million  francs  a 
year. 

To  state  how  much  work,  perseverance,  and 
genius  were  brought  to  bear  in  order  to  accomplish 
this  result  would  require  more  than  one  volume, 
and  I  know  of  no  one  who  could  faithfully  trans- 
late such  a  book  except,  perhaps,  the  founder  of 
the  French  Figaro.  I  have  often  wondered  what 
would  have  happened  if  my  illustrious  friend  H. 
de  Yillemessant  and  Mr.  James  Gordon  Bennett 
had  met  in  1848,  and  what  kind  of  a  journal 
would  have  been  produced  by  the  combined  en- 
terprise of  the  two  men  who  have  best  under- 
stood the  men  and  things  of  their  time. 

Upon  reflection  it  is  fortunate  that  chance  did 
not  bring  them  together.  Yillemessant  would 
have  retained  James  Gordon  Bennett  at  any 
price  and  by  every  possible  means.  Paris  would 
doubtless  have  benefited  by  such  a  measure,  but 
New  York  would  have  lost  much. 

Mr.  Bennett,  Jr.,  is  thirty  years  of  age,  and 
sharing  the  good  fortune  of  hereditary  monar 


A   FEW   CHARACTER   SKETCHES.  143 

chies,  he  is  in  all  respects  the  worthy  successor  of 
his  father. 

His  appearance  is  that  of  a  perfect  gentleman  ; 
he  is  tall,  of  a  dark,  pale  complexion,  and  is 
distinguished  looking.  Like  all  men  who  work 

O  O 

much  and  own  much  property,  he  seems  cold  and 
reserved,  save  when  animated  by  some  sudden 
impression.  The  proprietor  of  the  Herald  is 
certainly  conscious  that  he  holds  a  high  position  ; 
he  commands  an  army  of  faithful  correspon- 
dents, bold  and  devoted,  always  ready  at  a  mo- 
ment's notice  to  rush  from  one  end  of  the  world 
to  the  other.  He  has  throughout  the  world  as 
many  agents  as  a  great  power  has  consuls,  and 
the  letters  and  dispatches  which  he  receives  or 
sends  daily  are  numbered  by  thousands.  Thus 
no  event  of  any  importance  occurs  in  either 
hemisphere  without  it  being  related  in  his 
journal  a  few  hours  after. 

It  was  Mr.  Bennett  who  scattered  a  million  to 
obtain  news  of  the  unfortunate  Livingstone,  and 
every  one  remembers  the  sympathizing  curiosity 
which  accompanied  his  reporter,  Mr.  Stanley, 


144  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

who,  starting  with  a  hundred  others,  had  the 
good  fortune  of  first  reaching  the  goal. 

His  remarkable  talent  for  doing  things  on  a 
large  scale  increases  daily  the  reputation  of  his 
journal. 

In  the  midst  of  so  numerous  and  absorbing 
occupations,  Mr.  Bennett  is  yet  able  to  find  time 
for  pleasure.  He  is  fond  of  Paris,  which  he 
visits  frequently ;  he  speaks  French  like  a  resi- 
dent of  the  Boulevard  de  la  Madelaine.  One 
day  he  took  a  fancy  to  go  to  England  in  a  yacht, 
upon  which  Mr.  Batbie  would  certainly  not  have 
ventured  to  sneeze.  This  fancy  trip  made  a  great 
stir  in  the  world,  and  had  its  imitators ;  two  other 
yachts  started  at  the  same  time ;  bets  were  made, 
and,  as  usual,  the  hero  of  the  Herald  arrived 
before  the  others.  Mr.  Bennett  is  fond  of  social 
intercourse,  and  entertains  with  an  extravagance 
which  reminds  one  of  the  happy  days  of  the 
great  lords  of  the  last  century.  On  one  of  his 
estates  he  has  a  model  stud,  and  he  often  gets  up 
races,  to  which  he  invites  all  the  gentlemen  riders 
of  the  United  States.  The  attraction  of  these 
races  is  that  the  master  of  the  house  supplies  the 


A   FEW   CHARACTER   SKETCHES.  145 

horses,  and  that  the  gentleman  who  wins  takes 
away  his  horse,  as  in  our  chateaux  the  sportsmen 
carry  away  the  traditional  hamper  of  game.  Add 
to  all  this,  most  graceful  manners,  and  you  will 
even  then  form  but  a  faint  idea  of  one  of  the 
most  interesting  personages  of  the  New  World. 

THE   MANAGER   MAURICE   GRATT. 

Quite  a  young  man,  scarcely  twenty-eight 
years  old,  but  looking  forty.  Incessant  work, 
care  of  all  sort,  an  extraordinary  activity,  and 
continual  preoccupations  have  made  him  look 
prematurely  old.  He  has  led  a  busy  life,  an  ex- 
istence more  feverish,  more  consuming  in  Ame- 
rica than  anywhere  else.  He  has  already  made 
and  lost  five  or  six  fortunes.  One  day  he  is 
worth  millions,  and  the  next  he  has  not  a  penny. 
Nor  is  this  very  strange,  for  Maurice  Grau  often 
manages  five  theatres  at  one  and  the  same  time ; 
an  Italian  opera  in  New  York,  a  French  theatre 
in  Chicago,  a  music-hall  in  San  Francisco,  an 
English  dramatic  theatre  in  Havana,  and  a  Span- 
ish comic  opera  in  Mexico. 

It  is  he  who  brought  Rubenstein,  the  famous 

7 


14:6  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

pianist,  to  America.  What  a  campaign  that  was. 
Two  hundred  concerts  in  less  than  six  months ; 
sometimes  two  concerts  a  day. 

At  present  Maurice  Grau  manages  Mile. 
Aimee's  troupe.  It  is  he  who  made  the  agree- 
ment with  Rossi.  The  Italian  tragedian  is  ex- 
pected in  two  months,  and  will  travel  a  year  with 
his  clever  impresario. 

THE   ORCHESTRA   LEADER,    THOMAS. 

Thomas,  a  violinist,  and,  according  to  report,  a 
very  ordinary  violinist  in  the  New  York  opera, 
soon  perceived  that  his  position  did  not  pay.  He 
gave  up  the  bow  and  took  up  the  leader's  baton. 
To  distinguish  himself  from  others  who  beat 
time,  he  had  the  sense  to  create  a  specialty,  by 
making  himself  the  propagator  of  the  Wagner 
imisic,  which  has  procured  him  a  well-established 
artistic  reputation.  He  is  still  a  young  man. 
To  do  him  justice,  he  has  formed  an  excellent 
orchestra.  To  accomplish  that  object  he  has 
adopted  the  right  means ;  cost  what  it  may,  he 
engages  the  best  musicians  in  America,  and  con- 
tinues to  pay  them  a  high  price.  Wherever  he 


A   FEW   CHARACTER   SKETCHES.  147 

goes,  and  whatever  he  undertakes,  he  can  always 
rely  upon  the  assistance  of  twelve  first-rate  per- 
formers, who  never  desert  him.  Thus  his  or- 
chestra is  noted,  among  all  others,  for  its  wonder- 
ful ensemble.  As  leader,  Thomas  did  not  appear 
to  me  fully  up  to  the  reputation  he  enjoys.  He 
does  not  lead  with  spirit.  1  have  seen  him  at 
the  head  of  his  musicians  interpret  the  music  of 
Rossini,  Auber,  Yerdi,  Herold,  without  force  or 
animation.  When  by  chance  he  attempts  to  dis- 
play a  little  energy,  he  leads  with  both  arms  at 
once,  which  makes  him  look  from  behind  like  a 
huge  bird  about  to  take  its  flight.  He  has  a 
great  partiality  for  the  music  of  the  director  of 
the  Conservatoire  of  Paris,  our  excellent  friend 
Ambroise  Thomas.  He  seldom  fails  to  place  on 
his  programme  a  piece  written  by  the  author  of 
Mignon.  The  public  generally  believes  that  it 
is  the  leader  Thomas  who  is  entitled  to  credit  for 
the  piece.  If  Thomas  is  not  a  leader  of  the  first 
order,  he  is  nevertheless  a  man  of  real  merit. 
Great  praise  is  due  to  him  for  having  selected 
his  orchestra  so  well,  and  for  having  done  so 
much  to  popularize  classic  music  in  America. 


148  OFFENBACH   IK   AMEKICA. 

MAJSETZEK. 

A  Hungarian  from  Yienna,  born  in  Italy,  an 
old  resident  of  New  York.  About  fifty  years 
old — an  intelligent,  open,  and  witty  countenance. 
A  character  for  which  Americans  have  much 
sympathy.  At  "times  manager,  at  others  leader  of 
the  orchestra,  he  has  originated  almost  every 
company  which  have  played  Italian  opera  in  the 
United  States.  When  the  business  of  manager 
fares  badly,  which  sometimes  happens,  he  turns 
orchestra  leader.  Scarcely,  however,  is  he  leader 
than,  as  he  is  much  liked,  funds  come  in  and 
enable  him  to  form  another  company,  and  try  his 
luck  once  more.  I  cannot  say  whether  he  is  a 
good  manager,  as  I  have  never  seen  him  at  work, 
but  he  is  an  excellent  leader,  and  composes  also 
charming  music.  At  present  Maretzek  is  di- 
recting the  concerts  at  Offenbach  Garden  in 
Philadelphia.  You  may  be  sure  that  before 
three  months  he  will  have  laid  down  his  baton 
to  undertake  some  theatrical  enterprise  or  other. 

WEBER. 
Weber  is  a  German,   naturalized  American. 


A  FEW   CHARACTER   SKETCHES.  149 

He  has  lived  for  twenty  years  in  America.  I 
visited  the  workshops  where  he  manufactures 
his  pianos.  The  installation  is  magnificent.  The 
master  of  the  house  received  me  very  graciously. 
He  is  a  very  agreeable  man,  with  a  prepossessing 
face,  frank  and  open.  I  am  not  aware  whether 
he  be  descended  from  his  famous  namesake, 
Charles  Marie  Yon  Weber.  I  forgot  to  ask  him. 
However  that  may  be,  as  the  composer  was 
master  in  his  art,  the  American  Weber  is  master 
in  his.  The  instruments  of  his  manufacture  are 
much  sought  after  in  the  United  States. 

MISS   ESMEKALDA   CERVANTES. 

A  young  and  charming  person,  who  travels  in 
both  hemispheres  with  her  harp.  As  musician, 
she  has  great  talent ;  she  has  but  one  fault — that 
of  putting  all  her  titles  on  her  visiting  card — and 
certainly  she  has  enough  of  them.  I  copy  ver- 
batim : 

ESMEKALDA  CERVANTES. 

Harpist  to  the  royal  and  imperial  courts  of  S.  M.  dona 
Isabella  II.,  of  S.  M.  don  Alfonso  XII.,  of  S.  M.  don  Louis 
I. ,  and  of  S.  M.  don  Pedro  II. ,  of  Brazil.  Honorary  citizen 


150  OFFENBACH   IN  AMERICA. 

of  the  Republic  of  Uruguay,  decorated  with  several  crosses 
and  medals ;  honorary  professor  of  the  Conservatory  of  Bar- 
celona ;  president  of  the  lyric  Esmeralda  of  Spain  ;  of  the 
singing  societies,  Euterpe,  Montevideo,  and  Esmeralda  of 
Buenos -Ayres;  of  the  lyric  society  la  Bulma  ;  of  the  oriental 
hospital  and  of  the  benevolent  society  of  Buenos- Ayres ; 
honorary  member  of  the  singing  society,  Euterpe  of  Bar- 
celona, and  of  the  society  of  the  Torre,  of  the  same  city  ;  of 
the  philharmonic  society  of  Brazil ;  of  the  Lyra  of  Monte- 
video ;  of  the  literary  circles  and  of  the  Union  of  Lima  ;  of 
the  benevolent  societies  of  Beneficiencia  ;  of  the  society  of 
Caridad  ;  of  the  Spanish  hospital  and  of  the  society  of  Mis- 
ericorde  of  Buenos-Ayres ;  of  the  Beneficiencia  of  Rosario 
and  of  Valparaiso;  of  the  Beneficiencia  Espana  of  Lima; 
member  of  the  society  of  Firemen  of  CaUao ;  protectress  of  the 
society  of  ladies  of  the  Buen  Pastor  in  America  and  Europe. 

Let  us  add  that  Miss  Esmeralda  Cervantes  is 
scarcely  sixteen  years  old !  What  will  she  be 
when  she  is  thirty? 

MOEA. 

Mora  is  the  head  of  a  superb  photographic 
establishment.  He  has  the  most  agreeable  class 
of  customers  imaginable.  Before  his  objective- 
glasses  the  prettiest  American  ladies  come  to  sit. 
They  are  right,  for  were  it  possible  to  do  so, 


A   FEW   CHARACTER   SKETCHES.  151 

Mora  is  skilful  enough  to  render  them  prettier 

still. 


MAEA. 

A  ininature  painter.  He  has  a  talent  for  col- 
oring photographs,  and  making  real  miniatures 
of  them. 

A   SENATOR. 

I  met  in  New  York  a  personage  who,  starting 
from  the  lowest  strata,  has  reached  the  rank  of 
senator  by  the  strength  of  his  muscle.  This  is  not 
a  figure  of  speech.  A  simple  workman  at  first, 
and  gifted  with  herculean  strength,  he  left  the 
workshop  to  become  a  pugilist,  and  from  the 
prize-ring  he  stepped  into  political  life.  John 
Morrissey  is  still  a  young  man,  tall  and  splen- 
didly proportioned.  His  nose  is  slightly  broken  ; 
it  is,  I  am  told,  a  glorious  souvenir  of  a  memor- 
able encounter  with  another  boxer. 

After  earning  some  money  by  fighting  against 
the  "Bulwarks  of  Cincinnati,"  and  the  terrible 
"  Bruisers  of  Chicago,"  the  pugilist  retired  and 
opened  two  gambling-houses,  one  in  New  York, 
the  other  in  Saratoga.  Fortune  comes  quickly 


152  OFFENBACH   IN  AMERICA. 

in  enterprises  of  this  kind,  and  the  former  cham- 
pion is  now  worth  a  formidable  amount  of  dol- 
lars. Having  acquired  popularity,  as  well  as  a 
considerable  fortune,  he  had  no  difficulty  in  get- 
ting into  the  Senate.  After  reading  the  preced- 
ing account,  you  may  perhaps  imagine  that  this 
senator  must  have  retained  a  certain  roughness 
or  brutality  in  his  manners.  You  are  entirely 
mistaken.  He  is,  on  the  contrary,  a  very  gentle 
distinguished  man,  conversing  on  all  subjects 
with  much  tact  and  intelligence. 

In  France,  Harpin,  known  as  the  Bulwark  of 
Lyons,  would  have  considerable  difficulty,  not- 
withstanding the  eccentricity  of  the  times,  to 
reach  a  parliamentary  situation.  But  the  devil 
does  not  lose  much  for  all  that ;  for  more  than 
once  our  Assemblies  have  been  transformed  into 
arenas,  in  which  the  struggle  was  not  always  the 
most  courteous. 


CHAPTEE  XYI. 

PHILADELPHIA. 

HERE  I  am  in  Philadelphia.  It  is  eleven 
o'clock  at  night.  I  put  up  at  the  Continental 
Hotel,  a  reproduction,  as  regards  size,  of  the  Fifth 
Avenue  Hotel  at  New  York.  There  are,  how- 
ever, even  more  people  than  usual;  for  the 
Americans  give  a  dinner  to-day  to  the  Emperor 
of  Brazil,  who  is  staying  at  the  hotel.  From  my 
apartment  I  hear  a  band  of  music,  not  entirely 
harmonious,  which  is  playing  Orphee  aux  Enfers. 
Are  they  saluting  the  departure  of  Dom  Pedro, 
or  my  own  arrival? — it  is,  perhaps,  for  both, 
unless  the  music  has  been  ordered,  which  is  most 
probable,  to  play  during  dinner. 

The  next  day,  at  ten  o'clock,  I  went  down  to 
the  dining-room  for  breakfast.  It  was  a  repeti- 
tion of  the  New  York  meal.  There  is,  however, 

one  thing  which  gives  a  peculiar  and   curious 
7* 


154  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

appearance  to  the  room ;  it  is  that  all  the  waiters 
are  negroes  or  raulattoes.  To  be  received  as  waiter 
in  this  hotel,  it  is  necessary  to  have  a  coating  of 
liquid  blacking  on  your  face.  The  dining-room 
is  immense,  and  it  is  a  curious  sight  to  see  about 
thirty  tables  of  different  sizes,  chiefly  occupied  by 
pretty  women  in  elegant  dresses,  around  which 
some  forty  or  fifty  negroes  are  skipping  about. 
The  negroes  are  not  bad-looking,  but  the  mulat- 
toes  have  magnificent  heads.  I  have  an  idea  that 
Alexandre  Dumas  must  have  passed  some  time 
in  this  country ;  for  the  portrait  of  our  great 
novelist  is  reproduced  here  to  perfection. 

As  soon  as  I  had  breakfasted  I  started  for  the 
Exhibition,  for  I  had  forgotten  that  it  was  Sun- 
day. On  Sunday  the  Exhibition  is  closed  ;  the 
houses  and  taverns  are  closed ;  everything  is  closed 
in  this  joyous  city ;  it  is  exceedingly  gay.  The 
few  people  that  one  meets  are  coming  from 
church,  with  their  Bibles  and  funeral  faces. 
Should  you  be  guilty  of  smiling,  they  look  at  you 
with  horror ;  should  you  laugh,  they  would  have 
you  arrested. 

The  streets  are  very  fine,  and  wide  enough  to 


PHILADELPHIA.  155 

rival  the  Boulevard  Haussman.  On  both  sides 
are  houses  of  red  brick,  with  window-frames  in 
white  marble ;  here  and  there  pretty  little  man- 
sions ;  but  the  churches  are  very  numerous.  The 
pretty  women  of  Philadelphia  probably  require 
much  praying  for,  and  I  see  no  great  harm  in  the 
fact. 

A  new  City  Hall  is  being  built,  in  white  marble, 
and  will  cost  two  hundred  million  of  francs. 

My  two  friends  and  I  did  not  know  how  on 
earth  to  spend  our  Sunday.  We  were  advised  to 
go  to  Indian  Rock,  in  Fail-mount  Park.  It  takes 
two  hours  to  go  there,  but  the  park  is  endless. 

The  people  of  Philadelphia  are  proud  of  this 
immense  garden,  and  with  reason,  for  it  is  im- 
possible to  imagine  anything  finer  or  more  pic- 
turesque. Here  and  there  are  little  cottages 
nestling  in  the  shrubbery  ;  small  streams  winding 
under  the  trees,  green  valleys,  shady  ravines, 
splendid  woods ;  it  is  magnificent. 

From  time  to  time  one  sees  a  tavern,  a  public- 
house  full  of  people.  The  men,  according  to  the 
American  fashion,  stretched  in  rocking-chairs,  or 
on  ordinary  chairs,  resting  their  feet  upon  some 


156  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

object  higher  than  their  heads.  They  all  had 
large  glasses  of  red,  green,  or  yellow  lemonade 
before  them.  Strong  drinks  are  forbidden — on 
Sunday  one  must  confine  himself  to  mild  drinks. 
The  law  cannot  be  the  same  for  all,  for  a  carriage, 
driven  by  two  residents  of  the  place,  quite 
drunk  (and  I  hardly  suppose  the  lemonade  could 
have  produced  this  effect),  nearly  ran  into  ours 
several  timea.  These  questionable  observers  of 
the  Sunday  law  passed  us  several  times,  and 
seemed  bent  upon  upsetting  us.  On  reaching 
Indian  Rock,  our  coachman  gravely  dismounted 
from  his  box,  and  took  hold  of  the  reins  of  the 
horse  driven  by  the  two  drunken  men.  He 
begged  these  gentlemen  to  get  out  of  their  car- 
riage. On  their  refusal,  a  policeman  gravely  got 
into  their  carriage,  lifted  out  one  of  them,  handing 
him  over  into  the  arms  of  another  policeman,  who 
received  him  with  the  greatest  politeness;  he 
then  gravely  took  the  reins  and  drove  off  with  the 
other.  A  dozen  words  were  not  exchanged  be- 
tween them;  all  was  done  silently,  gravely, 
methodically. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

OFFENBACH  GARDEN. 

THE  establishment  where  I  was  to  give  con- 
certs was  a  covered  garden,  recently  built  on  the 
model  of  Gilmore's  Garden,  bat  smaller.  The 
same  stage,  the  same  cascade,  the  same  Niagara, 
the  same  colored  glasses,  the  same  rustic  boxes. 
What  pleased  me  most  was  that  I  had  at  Phila- 
delphia almost  the  same  musicians  as  at  New 
Tork ;  they  were  less  numerous  it  is  true — sev- 
enty-five instead  of  one  hundred  and  ten — the 
hall  not  being  so  large.  My  permission  had  been 
asked  to  call  it  Offenbach  Garden,  and  I  could 
not  refuse.  Offenbach  Garden  was  as  favorable 
to  me  as  Gilmore  Garden.  The  same  enthusi- 
asm ;  the  same  encores  ;  the  same  brilliant  con- 
certs. The  day  after  each  concert  the  journals 
overwhelmed  me  with  praise ;  once  only  a  jour- 
nal made  me  a  reproach,  which  caused  me  much 


158  OFFENBACH   IN    AMERICA. 

grief.  Speaking  of  my  personal  appearance, 
dress  coat,  black  trousers,  white  cravat,  the  critic 
observed  that  I  wore  gray  gloves.  The  observa- 
tion was  correct ;  I  must  humbly  admit  that  I 
have  worn  white  gloves  four  times  only  in  my 
life ;  once  as  groomsman,  another  time  on  my 
wedding  day,  and  the  two  others  at  the  marriage 
of  my  two  daughters. 

On  Sundays,  concerts,  as  well  as  all  other 
amusements,  are  forbidden.  One  day  the  pro- 
prietor of  the  garden  came  to  tell  me  that  he 
had  obtained  permission  to  give  a  sacred  concert. 

"  I  rely  upon  you,"  he  said  ;  "  I  have  already 
had  the  bills  printed.  See ! " 

He  showed  me  the  placard,  which  I  copy 
faithfully  for  the  benefit  of  the  reader,  on  the 
opposite  page. 


OFFENBACH    GARDEN 

COR  BROAD  AND   CHERRY  STS 

SUNDAY  !•: VI2M \G,  JUWE  25  TH 

AT  8  O'CLOCK  P.  M., 

GRAND 

SACRED 

CONCERT 


BY 


M.  OFFENBACH 

AND   THE 

GRAND    ORCHESTRA 

IN  A  CHOICE  SELECTION  OF 

SACRED  AND  CLASSICAL  MUSIC 


50  ems 

LEDGER  JOB  PRINT.  PHILAD* 


160  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

For  a  whole  week  my  Grand  Sacred  Concert 
•was  placarded  all  over  the  town,  and  during 
this  time  I  prepared  a  very  pretty  programme  : 

Deo  gratias,  from  the  Domino  noir. 

Ace  Maria,  by  Gounod. 

Religious  March,  from  la  Haine. 

Ace  Maria,  by  Schubert. 

Liianie  de  la  Belle  Hettne,  dis-moi,  Venus. 

Hymn,  from  Orphee  aux  Enfers. 

Prayer,  from  the  Grande  Duchesse  (Dites-lui). 

Seraphic  Dance,  Burlesque  Polka. 

Angdus,  from  the  Mariage  aux  Lanternes. 

Unfortunately  the  authorities  changed  their 
mind  at  the  last  moment.  I  regret  that  the 
affair  did  not  take  place,  for  I  am  persuaded 
that  my  Sacred  Concert  would  have  been  a  great 
success. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

ON   THE   WAT   TO   NIAGARA — PULLMAN   OAKS. 

THE  road  from  New  York  to  Niagara  is  very 
fine.  The  landscape,  as  far  as  Albany,  is  truly 
marvellous  along  the  splendid  river  Hudson. 
I  do  not  know  to  what  river  in  Europe  I 
could  compare  the  American  river.  There  are 
places  which  remind  me  of  the  most  beautiful 
parts  of  the  Rhine;  there  are  others  which 
surpass  in  beauty  all  that  I  had  ever  seen. 
The  voyage  is  made  in  the  most  agreeable 
manner ;  the  Pullman  cars  are  a  precious  in- 
stitution. The  great  problem  is  realized  by 
these  wonderful  carriages  of  being  on  a  rail- 
way and  having  none  of  the  unpleasantness  of 
travelling  by  rail.  One  is  not,  as  with  us, 
packed  in  narrow  compartments,  nor  exposed 
to  the  tingling  sensation  which  passes  in  one's 
limbs  after  some  hours  of  immobility.  One  has 


162  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

not  to  fear  ankylosis  of  the  fatigued  limbs  from 
keeping  the  same  position  for  too  great  a 
length  of  time.  In  the  American  train  you 

can  walk  about  from  one   car  to  another  all 

i 

the  way  from  the  baggage-car  to  the  buffer  of 
the  last  carriage.  When  tired  of  walking,  you 
can  rest  in  an  elegant  saloon,  upon  excellent 
arm-chairs.  You  have  at  hand  all  necessary 
comforts  to  make  life  agreeable.  I  cannot  bet- 
ter sum  up  my  admiration  for  American  rail- 
ways than  by  saying  that  they  are  really — a 
cradle  on  wheels. 

I  do  not,  however,  like  the  continual  bell  which 
accompanies  you  all  along  the  journey  with  its 
funeral  knell ;  but  it  is,  perhaps,  only  a  matter 
of  habit,  and  one  should  not  have  too  delicate  an 
ear  when  travelling  in  America,  for  one  is  con- 
stantly persecuted  by  unpleasant  sounds. 

At  Utica,  where  we  stopped  a  few  minutes  to 
lunch,  I  saw  (and  heard,  alas!)  a  large  negro 
beating  a  tam-tam.  He  was  evidently  playing 
music  of  his  own  composing,  for  he  beat  some- 
times loud  and  with  astonishing  quickness,  some- 
times with  measured  slowness.  I  forgot  to  lunch 


ON   THE   WAY   TO   NIAGARA — PULLMAN   CARS.    163 

while  watching  this  peculiar  musician.  During 
his  last  piece  of  music — for  so  he  doubtless  con- 
sidered it — I  was  all  ears  and  eyes.  He  began  by 
a  fortissimo  which  deafened  you,  for  the  negro 
was  a  powerful  fellow,  and  applied  all  his 
strength.  After  this  brilliant  opening,  his  music 
continued  deorescendo,  piano,  pianissimo,  then 
silence. 

At  the  same  moment  the  train  started.  I  had 
just  time  to  jump  on,  and  we  were  again  at  full 
speed. 

At  Albany  we  stopped  to  dine.  I  found 
another  great  negro  before  the  hotel,  who  resem- 
bled the  first,  and  who  was  also  playing  the  tam- 
tam. This  must  certainly  be  a  country  exceed- 
ingly fond  of  the  tam-tam. 

A  hungry  belly  has  no  ears,  says  the  proverb. 
I  am  grieved  in  this  case  at  being  unable  to  agree 
with  the  wisdom  of  nations,  for,  notwithstanding 
my  appetite,  the  negro's  music  tormented  me 
during  all  the  meal.  He  played  exactly  like  his 
colleague  at  Utica — the  same  repetition  of  forte, 
piano,  and  pianissimo.  I  was  on  the  point  of 
asking  if  the  negroes  really  considered  the  solo 


164  OFFENBACH  IN   AMERICA. 

on  the  tam-tam  to  be  music,  and  if  this  was  their 
national  air,  when  one  of  my  friends  addressed 
me. 

"  This  negro  puzzles  you,"  he  said  ;  "  you  will 
see  one  just  like  him  at  every  station  on  the 
line." 

"Is  it  an  attention  on  the  part  of  the  com- 
pany ? "  I  asked. 

"  No,  it  is  the  hotel-keepers  who  engage  them. 
The  negroes  play  all  the  time  the  train  is  at  the 
station ;  their  music  warns  the  travellers  who  are 
inside  the  hotel.  While  the  tam-tam  is  loud,  you 
can  remain  quiet ;  when  the  sound  decreases,  you 
had  better  hurry ;  when  it  is  at  the  lowest,  the 
travellers  know  that  they  must  jump  into  the 
cars,  which,  like  Louis  XIV.,  do  not  wait,  and, 
worse  still,  give  no  warning.  So  much  the  worse 
for  those  who  lose  the  train." 

I  do  not  know  whether  I  prefer  the  American 
style  to  that  employed  by  the  hotel-keeper  at 
Morcenz,  between  Bordeaux  and  Biarritz.  Hav- 
ing no  negro,  the  landlord  himself  shouts,  in  a 
stentorian  voice:  "Five  minutes  more!  four 
minutes  more !  three  minutes  more ! " 


ON   THE    WAT   TO   NIAGARA PULLMAN   CARS.    165 

The  two  systems  are  alike ;  the  only  difference 
is  that  one  deafens  you  with  his  voice  inside  the 
establishment,  while  the  other  stuns  you  with  his 
music  in  the  open  air. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE   FALLS   OF   NIAGARA. 

MUCH  has  been  written  on  the  subject  of  this 
wonderful  waterfall,  but  no  one  has  yet  been  able 
to  describe  the  impression  produced  by  the  sight 
of  the  great  stream  at  the  moment  when  it  leaps 
headlong,  from  a  height  of  a  hundred  and  fifty 
feet,  into  the  fathomless  abyss  beneath.  The  view 
of  that  vast  amphitheatre,  of  that  prodigious 
volume  of  water,  breaking  into  foam,  with  a  roar 
of  thunder,  like  the  huge  tidal  wave  that  follows 
an  earthquake,  made  me  giddy,  and  caused  me 
to  forget  all  I  had  ever  read,  all  I  had  ever 
heard,  and  all  that  had  ever  suggested  itself  to  my 
imagination.  This  diluvial  torrent,  framed  with- 
in the  wildest  scenery,  surrounded  by  lofty  trees 
of  the  deepest  green,  upon  which  a  shower  of 
spray  is  constantly  falling  like  perpetual  dew, 
defies  photography,  painting,  or  description.  In 


THE   FALLS   OF   NIAGARA.  167 

order  to  describe,  there  must  be  some  point  of 
comparison.  To  what  can  Niagara  be  compared, 
that  unrivalled,  everlasting  phenomenon,  to  the 
magnificence  of  which  we  can  never  become 
accustomed ! 

While  we  were  absorbed  in  the  contemplation 
of  this  wonder — 

"  This  is  the  spot,"  said  our  guide,  "  where  an 
Indian  met  with  his  fate  a  fortnight  ago.  Car- 
ried away  by  the  current,  the  slight  craft  that 
held  him  was  drawing  near  to  the  Falls,  notwith- 
standing all  his  efforts.  The  Indian,  feeling  his 
strength  giving  way,  saw  that  he  was  lost.  He 
ceased  to  struggle,  wrapped  himself  up  in  his 
red  blanket  as  in  a  shroud,  and  laid  himself 
down  in  the  bottom  of  his  boat.  A  few  seconds 
after  he  was  on  the  crest  of  the  gigantic  wave, 
and  was  shot  with  the  rapidity  of  lightning  into 
this  watery  grave,  covered  with  a  mist  of  im- 
maculate white." 

After  hearing  the  story  of  this  catastrophe,  so 
fearful,  yet  so  grand,  I  could  not  help  envying 
the  fate  of  the  unfortunate  red-skin,  and  I  won- 
dered that  all  Americans  in  distress  did  not 


168  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

prefer  the  Falls  of  Niagara  to  the  insipid  revolver. 
After  having  long  enjoyed  this  wonderful  spec- 
tacle, I  crossed  the  bridge  and  set  foot  on  Cana- 
dian soil.  Here,  I  had  been  told,  I  would  see 
Indians.  I  expected  to  find  savages,  and  was 
surprised  to  find  only  dealers  in  bric-a-brac. 
They  were  hideous,  I  confess ;  they  looked  quite 
ferocious,  I  admit  also :  but!  doubt  whether  they 
were  genuine  Indians.  However  that  may  be, 
they  surrounded  me  on  all  sides,  offered  me 
bamboos,  fans,  cigar-holders,  and  pocket-books  of 
a  doubtful  taste.  They  reminded  me  of  the 
Indians  of  the  forest  of  Fontainbleau  who  sell 
pen-holders  and  paper-knives. 

Nevertheless,  I  made  a  few  purchases ;  but  I 
verily  believe  that  I  brought  back  into  France 
some  curiosities  which  had  been  procured  at  the 
selling  out  of  some  Parisian  bazar. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE  DAUPHIN   ELEAZAR. 

ON  the  boat  that  takes  you  to  all  the  fine  parts 
of  the  lake  is  a  distributor  of  hand-bills,  who 
compels  you  to  take  his  little  paper.  In  Paris, 
when  one  of  these  persons  offers  you  a  bill,  you 
take  it  to  encourage  business,  but  you  manage  to 
throw  it  away  ten  steps  further.  I  had  the  good 
idea  not  to  treat  thus  the  prospectus  which  had 
been  handed  me,  and  I  had  my  reward ;  for  the 
paper  which  had  been  almost  forced  upon  me  is 
a  valuable  document,  which  may  have  the  greatest 
influence  upon  the  destiny  of  France.  This 
document  begins,  it  is  true,  by  explaining,  like  an 
ordinary  guide-book,  the  beauties  of  the  various 
places  to  be  seen  on  the  borders  of  the  lake; 
but  it  contains  an  extremely  curious  pas  age, 

which  I  am  happy  to  give  here  verbatim : 
8 


1TO  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

"  Howe  Point,  near  the  outlet  of  the  lake,  is 
named  in  honor  of  the  idol  of  the  army,  Lord 
Howe,  who  was  killed  at  this  place  in  the  first 
engagement  with  the  French.  Here  it  was  that 
Louis  XVL,  of  France,  through  the  instrumen- 
tality of  two  French  priests,  in  1795,  banished  his 
son,  the  Royal  Dauphin,  when  but  seven  years 
old,  and  arranged  with  an  Indian  chief,  one 
Thomas  Williams,  to  adopt  him  as  his  own  son. 
He  received  the  name  of  Eleazar,  and  afterwards, 
as  the  Rev.  Eleazar  Williams,  was  educated  and 
ordained  to  the  ministry,  officiating  for  many 
years  among  the  Oneidas  of  Western  New  York, 
and  afterwards  in  Wisconsin,  where  he  was  vis- 
ited, a  few  years  since,  by  the  Prince  de  Joinville, 
and  offered  large  estates  in  France,  if  he  would 
renounce  his  rights  to  the  THRONE  OF  FRANCE. 
These  tempting  offers  he  declined,  preferring  to 
retain  his  right  as  KING  OF  FRANCE,  although  he 
might  spend  his  life  in  preaching  the  gospel  to 
the  poor  savages,  which  he  did  until  the  time  of 
his  death,  some  years  since." 

After  having  read  this  narration,  as  touching 
as  it  was  probable,  I  made  inquiries,  and  learnt 


THE   DAUPHIN   ELEAZAR.  171 

that  the  Rev.  Dauphin  Eleazar  had  left  a 
son. 

Another  claimant ! 

Imagine  this  gentleman  arriving  in  France. 
"What  a  complication !  I  tremble  to  think  of  it. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE   RETURN   FROM   NIAGARA — SLEEPING-CARS. 

ON  the  way  from  Niagara  I  took  the  night 
train.  I  was  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  try  in 
person  the  sleeping-cars  of  which  I  had  heard  so 
much. 

I  entered  the  car,  which  seemed  arranged,  as 
usual,  with  large  easy-chairs  on  each  side  of 
the  passage-way — special  rooms  for  smokers,  and 
all  the  convenience  which  I  had  so  much  ad- 
mired on  my  first  trip.  Nothing  indicated,  in 
the  arrangement  of  the  cars,  that  one  could  sleep 
there  in  a  bed,  and  I  began  to  believe  in  some 
mystification,  so  utterly  impossible  did  it  seem 
that  all  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  who  sat  in  this 
fine  saloon  could  be  supplied  with  sleeping  ac- 
commodations. 

Nevertheless,  at  about  nine  o'clock,  when  it 
began  to  get  quite  dark,  two  servants  of  the  com- 


RETURN   FROM   NIAGARA — SLEEPING-CARS.     173 

pany  appeared  and  commenced  the  arrange- 
ments. In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  our  seats 
were  transformed  into  beds,  and  in  the  most 
simple  manner.  Upon  the  seats  joined  together 
by  a  board,  they  placed  first  a  mattress,  sheets, 
and  blankets.  The  saloon,  thus  turned  into  a 
dormitory,  would  not  have  been  sufficient  for 
the  number  of  travellers  without  another  expe- 
dient. Above  each  of  the  beds  is  a  little  appa- 
ratus, which  drops  down,  and  which  proves  to  be 
a  sort  of  folding-bed.  There  are  thus  two 
stories  of  beds  in  each  compartment — the  ground 
floor  and  the  entresol.  But,  before  retiring,  there 
is  a  preliminary  operation,  which  people  are  not 
generally  fond  of  performing  in  public.  The 
men,  were  they  alone,  could  easily  undress  be- 
fore each  other ;  but  the  ladies,  it  will  readily 
be  understood,  cannot  undress  before  all  the 
travellers.  The  inventor  of  the  sleeping-cars 
was  therefore  obliged  to  find  some  means  of  reas- 
suring the  modesty  of  the  fair  sex.  This  he  has 
succeeded  in  doing  by  making  of  each  pair  of 
beds — the  upper  and  the  lower  ones — a  complete 
bed-room.  Two  large  curtains,  drawn  parallel 


174  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

the  whole  length  of  the  car,  form  a  long  corridor 
in  the  centre,  in  which  the  travellers  can  walk, 
if  so  disposed.  Between  each  of  these  curtains 
and  the  side  of  the  wagon  are  smaller  curtains. 
A  person  in  bed  is  thus  in  a  little  room,  which 
at  the  head  has  a  wooden  wall,  and  on  the  three 
other  sides  a  curtain  partition.  1  have  known 
hotels  where  the  walls  were  less  discreet  than 
those  of  the  sleeping-car. 

All  the  preparations  being  finished,  an  amus- 
ing scene  begins.  Each  one  chooses  his  bed,  and 
selects  the  little  compartment  which  appears 
most  advantageous  to  him.  Then  for  some 
minutes  is  heard  in  the  adjoining  rooms  the 
noise  of  boots  falling  on  the  floor,  or  the  pleasant 
rustling  sound  which  reveals  the  removing  of  a 
skirt. 

When  a  husband  travels  with  his  wife,  he  has 
a  perfect  right  to  occupy  the  same  compartment 
with  her.  This  fact  was  revealed  to  me  by  an 
extremely  interesting  conversation,  held  in  a  low 
tone,  which  took  place  in  the  next  berth  to  mine  on 
the  right  side.  However  discreet  one  may  be,  one 
is  always  a  little  curious  to  know  what  neighbors, 


RETURN   FROM   NIAGARA — SLEEPING-CARS.     175 

chance  has  given  you.  On  the  left,  the  occupant 
of  the  cabin  was  a  charming  young  lady.  She 
had  retired  to  her  room  as  soon  as  the  transfor- 
mation of  the  saloon  had  taken  place,  and,  to  her 
honor  be  it  said,  her  presence  was  revealed  only 
by  the  most  discreet  motions.  Then  when  the 
curtain  ceased  to  stir,  the  sound  of  a  bed  receiv- 
ing a  light  body  informed  me  that  she  had  at  last 
lain  down  for  the  night.  A  few  minutes  elapsed. 
I  had  also  stretched  myself  upon  my  bed,  but  not 
being  accustomed  to  this  kind  of  travelling  hotel, 
and  being  kept  awake  by  my  old  Parisian  habit  of 
going  to  sleep  very  late,  I  lay  with  my  eyes  open, 
thinking  of  the  strange  aspect  of  this  American 
dormitory.  In  the  passage  at  my  feet,  formed 
by  the  two  long  curtains  of  which  I  have  spoken, 
I  heard  the  sound  of  people  walking  to  and  fro. 
"Who  could  they  be  I  I  cast  a  glance  upon  the 
corridor,  and  saw — horresco  referens — ladies  in 
night  jackets  (it  is  true  they  were  not  the  pret- 
tiest) who  were  going  ...  I  know  not  where.  I 
saw  also  a  good-looking  Yankee  who  came  out  of 
his  room.  After  ascertaining  that  the  road  was 
clear,  he  walked  to  the  platform  and  lit  a  cigar. 


176  OFFENBACH   IN  AMERICA. 

A  moment  later  he  threw  away  his  fragrant 
Havana,  and  returned  inside  the  car ;  but  instead 
of  going  straight  to  his  cabin,  he  directed  his 
steps — YOU  have  already  guessed — to  that  of  my 
pretty  neighbor  on  the  left. 

His  irruption  into  the  sanctuary  of  the  pretty 
American  lady  provoked  a  series  of  exclamations, 
uttered  in  a  low  voice,  so  as  not  to  arouse  the  gen- 
eral attention  of  the  dormitory,  and  the  invader 
retired,  making  some  excuse  for  his  mistake. 
The  night  passed  without  any  further  incident. 

Scarcely  had  rosy-fingered  morn  appeared, 
than  the  servants  appeared  also.  Ladies  and 
gentlemen  tumbled  out  of  their  beds,  and  made 
their  toilets  as  best  they  could  behind  their  re- 
spective curtains.  The  agents  of  the  company 
then  restored  everything  to  its  usual  order  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye.  After  our  night's  sleep, 
therefore,  we  met  again  in  the  saloon  as  fresh 
and  as  well  as  though  we  had  spent  the  night  in 
a  hotel. 

In  Albany  an  American  presented  me  to  his 
wife  and  mother-in-law.  "While  we  were  talk- 
ing, a  pedlar  came  along  with  fans,  and  I 


KETUKN  FROM  NIAGARA — SLEEPING-CARS.     177 

bought  two  for  a  few  cents  and  offered  them  to 
the  ladies. 

"  We  accept,  sir,"  they  said,  "  but  on  one  con- 
dition." 

"  What  is  that  ? "  I  inquired. 

"  That  you  write  your  name  on  a  corner  of  the 
fan." 

"  Oh  1  an  autograph,"  I  said,  at  once  complying 
with  their  desire. 

I  noticed,  on  several  occasions,  what  a  mania 
Americans  have  for  autographs.  It  is  a  pas- 
sion which  they  carry  to  a  point  of  being  indis- 
creet. 

I  received,  on  an  average,  during  my  stay  in 
the  States,  about  ten  requests  a  day,  coming  from 
all  parts  of  the  American  territory.  I  have  been 
hailed,  followed,  and  dogged  in  hotels,  public 
gardens,  theatres,  and  even  in  the  street,  by  de- 
termined collectors,  who  insisted  upon  having  a 
few  lines  of  my  handwriting.  My  calligraphy 
was  at  a  premium,  and  I  received  letters  of 
every  kind,  some  simple,  others  ingenious  : 

"  SIR, — I  have  made  a  bet  with  one  of  my 

friends  that  you  were  born  in  Paris.     As  the 

8*    ' 


178  OFFENBACH  IN  AMERICA. 

araonnt  ia  considerable,  will  you  kindly  drop  me 
a  line  and  let  me  know  if  I  have  won  ? " 

Another  had  wagered  that  I  had  originally 
come  from  Cologne ;  a  third  affirmed  that  my 
native  place  was  the  little  German  town  of  Offen- 
bach, famous  for  its  manufacture  of  cutlery ;  and 
all  ended  with  the  same  request  for  a  line. 

Some  of  my  unknown  correspondents  pro- 
ceeded in  another  manner : 

"  My  name  is  Michel ;  I  am  a  distant  relative 
of  your  brother-in-law,  Robert.  Send  me  a  line, 
and  let  me  know  how  he  is." 

These  were  not  aware  even  that  Mitchel  and 
Michel  were  not  spelled  alike. 

There  was  also  the  following  model : 

"  SIR, — I  have  something  very  important  to  com- 
municate to  you.  Will  you  admit  me?  Please 
Bend  a  line  in  reply." 

I  could  mention  forty  or  fifty  of  the  same  kind. 

One  day  an  Englishman  addressed  me,  while  I 
was  dining  at  the  Brunswick. 

"  I  live  at  San  Francisco,"  he  said,  "  and  I 
Bhould  like  to  have  your  name." 

My  dinner  was  about  over ;  I  rose,  gave  him  my 


RETURN  FROM  NIAGARA — SLEEPING-CARS.     179 

card,  and  left  him  a  little  disappointed.  I  im- 
agined that  I  had  done  with  the  fellow ;  but  the 
next  day  he  was  waiting  for  me,  and,  as  I  entered 
the  dining-room,  he  rushed  to  me,  with  paper, 
pen,  and  ink  in  his  hand. 

"  Just  your  signature !  "  he  said,  in  a  tremulous 
voice  ;  "  I  start  this  evening ;  it  would  give  me 
BO  much  pleasure ;  I  have  come  from  such  a  dis- 
tance." 

It  was  impossible  to  refuse  a  man  who  had 
come  from  so  far. 

All  the  requests  I  received  invariably  con- 
tained an  envelope,  directed  and  stamped,  and  I 
accumulated  five  or  six  hundred  of  these.  I 
hereby  inform  my  fair  applicants  for  autographs 
that  1  carefully  collected  their  stamps,  disposed 
of  them,  and  sent  the  product  to  a  charitable 
institution. 

Let  them  receive,  then,  with  the  assurance  of 
my  profound  regret,  the  thanks  of  the  poor. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE   MISEEIES   OF  A   MUSICIAN. 

BESIDES  the  concerts  which  I  had  engaged 
to  direct,  I  had  promised  Mdlle.  Aimee  to  lead 
at  some  of  the  representations  which  she  in- 
tended giving  in  America.  According  to  my 
promise,  I  had  held  the  baton  of  leader  of  the 
orchestra  in  New  Tork,  at  the  theatre  where 
Mdlle.  Aime'e  sang.  I  thought  I  had  thus  dis- 
charged my  obligation  towards  her;  but  when 
my  series  of  concerts  were  over  in  Philadel- 
phia, she  came  to  inform  me  that  she  was  about 
starting  for  Chicago,  and  begged  me  to  lead 

a  last  representation  at  X .     I  have  special 

reasons  for  not  giving  the  name  of  the  town. 

I  intended  myself  going  to  Chicago,  and  X 

being  on  the  way,  I    consented.       I    reached 

X early  in  the   morning.     The  piece  for 

the   evening   was  La    Belle   Parfumeuse.     I 


THE  MISERIES  OF  A  MUSICIAN.  181 

went  to  the  theatre,  so  as  to  have  at  least 
one  rehearsal  with  my  orchestra. 

I  went  to  my  desk,  gave  the  signal,  and  the 
musicians  began. 

I  knew  my  score  by  heart.  What,  then,  was 
my  surprise  at  hearing,  instead  of  what  I  ex- 
pected, some  strange  sounds  which  bore  no  like- 
ness to  my  operetta.  I  could  make  out  the  tunes, 
but  the  scoring  was  entirely  different  from  mine. 
Some  inventive  local  musician  had  thought  pro- 
per to  compose  a  new  score  according  to  his 
own  ideas ! 

My  first  impulse  was  to  leave  the  rehearsal  at 
once,  and  to  give  up  all  thought  of  leading  the 
orchestra  in  the  evening.  Mdlle.  Aimee,  how- 
ever, begged  me  so  hard  to  stay,  representing 
that  I  was  on  the  bills,  that  the  public  would  be 
angry  if  I  did  not  appear,  that  the  performance 
would  even  be  impossible,  that  I  finally  allowed 
myself  to  be  coaxed.  I  resumed  my  bow,  and 
gave  the  signal  of  attack  to  my  orchestra.  What 
an  orchestra  !  It  was  small,  but  wretched.  Out 
of  twenty-five  musicians  eight  were  pretty  good, 
six  were  indifferent,  and  the  others  decidedly  bad. 


182  OFFENBACH   IN  AMERICA. 

To  guard  against  all  eventualities,  I  first  of  all 
requested  a  second  violin  to  take  a  kettle-drum, 
and  I  gave  him  my  instructions  privately.  This 
was  a  lucky  thought,  as  will  be  seen  hereafter. 

The  rehearsal  was  so  deplorable,  that  when  it 
was  over  I  made  new  efforts  to  be  excused  from 
leading.  It  was  time  lost ;  I  found  it  impossible 
to  escape  from  the  execution  of  my  music. 

"  Come  what  may,"  I  thought,  "  I  have  prom- 
ised to  lead  two  acts.  I  will  lead  them,  with  the 
help  of  Providence." 

What  a  performance !  You  should  have  heard 
it.  The  two  clarionets  emitted  false  notes  every 
instant — except,  however,  when  they  were  needed. 
In  the  comic  march  of  the  first  act  I  have  noted 
a  few  bars  purposely  out  of  tune,  and  this  always 
produces  an  amusing  effect.  When  they  had 
reached  this  particular  passage,  the  clarionets 
stopped,  and  went  on  merely  counting  time  ;  the 
fool  who  had  scored  my  music  had  written  this 
piece  for  the  quartette  only.  At  the  rehearsal  I 
had  begged  these  gentlemen  (the  clarionet  play- 
ers) to  play,  no  matter  what,  in  this  place,  feeling 
certain  that  the  false  notes  would  come  naturally. 


THE  MISERIES   OF   A  MUSICIAN.  183 

But  I  had  reckoned  without  my  host ;  relying 
upon  their  text,  the  rascals  absolutely  refused  to 
go  on. 

"We  have  pauses  to  mark;  we  must  mark 
them  ;  there  is  nothing  written  for  us." 

"But,  gentlemen,  the  false  notes  you  utter 
when  there  are  no  pauses  are  not  written  either, 
and  nevertheless  you  do  not  spare  them." 

It  was  impossible  to  convince  them.  As  for 
the  hautboy,  he  played  from  time  to  time  as  he 
felt  inclined  ;  the  flute  blew  when  he  could  ;  the 
bassoon  slept  half  the  time ;  the  violoncello  and 
double-bass,  placed  just  behind  me,  skipped  note 
after  note,  and  smuggled  in  a  base  of  their  own 
fancy.  While  leading  with  the  right  hand,  I  had 
at  every  moment  to  stop  either  the  bow  of  the 
double-bass  or  that  of  the  violoncello.  That  was 
to  parry  the  false  notes.  The  first  violinist,  an 
excellent  one,  was  always  too  hot ;  the  thermome- 
ter stood  above  100  degrees  in  the  room,  and  the 
poor  fellow  was  continually  trying  to  wipe  his 
forehead.  I  appealed  to  him  in  a  beseeching 
tone :  "  If  you  forsake  me,  my  friend,  we  are 
lost  1 "  He  put  away  his  handkerchief  n?ourn- 


184:  OFFENBACH  IN  AMERICA. 

fully,  and  took  up  his  instrument ;  but  the  flood 
of  false  notes  kept  constantly  raising.  Happily 
the  first  act  was  drawing  to  a  close. 

An  enthusiastic  success  I 

I  fancied  I  must  be  dreaming. 

All  this  was  nothing  to  the  second  act.  Still 
following  my  own  score,  as  originally  written,  I 
turned  to  the  flute,  who  should,  according  to  the 
text,  have  struck  in  at  this  point ;  but  it  was  the 
trombone  on  the  right  who  responded  instead. 

The  two  clarionet  players  had,  according  to  my 
score,  a  song  in  tierce.  The  local  musician  had 
given  it  to  the  cornet-a-piston,  who  played  false, 
and  to  the  bassoon,  who  was  still  asleep.  At  last, 
and  not  without  much  difficulty,  we  reached  the 
finale.  I  doubted  very  much  whether  we  should 
get  through  it.  The  duet  between  Rose  and 
JBavolet  went  on  after  a  fashion,  but  it  went  on. 
The  finale  follows  the  duet,  and  as  the  latter 
ends  in  0, 1  have  of  course  made  for  the  entry  of 
Clorinde,  which  begins  in  B  major,  the  modula- 
tion in  C  sharp,  E  sharp,  E.  The  bass  plays  the 
sharp.  My  little  march  had  been  scored  by  the 
musician  of  X ,  for  the  famous  clarionets,  the 


THE   MISERIES   OF   A   MUSICIAN.  185 

hautboy  player,  who  did  not  play,  and  the  bassoon, 
who  was  sleeping  more  soundly  than  ever.  I 
made  desperate  signs  to  his  neighbor,  who  woke 
him  suddenly.  If  I  had  only  known,  I  would 
have  let  him  alone ;  for  instead  of  striking  the  A 
sharp,  he  struck  up  E  sharp  with  all  the  strength 
of  his  lungs.  Five  notes  too  high  !  The  unfor- 
tunate artist  who  played  Clorinde  naturally  fol- 
lowed the  natural  ascension,  and  also  started  the 
melody  five  notes  too  high.  The  orchestra,  pay- 
ing no  attention  to  all  these  particulars,  went  on 
playing  five  notes  too  low,  and  one  may  imagine 
the  cacophony.  I  made  desperate  signs  to  Clo- 
rinde and  to  the  musicians,  while  the  perspiration 
was  streaming  from  my  face.  An  inspiration  from 
heaven  at  last  came  to  my  aid.  I  made  an  ener- 
getic and  desperate  sign  to  the  drummer.  He 
understood  me,  and  a  vigorous  roll  that  made 
the  windows  rattle — a  roll  of  thirty  bars,  that 
lasted  until  the  end  of  the  duet,  and  which  com- 
pletely drowned,  heaven  knows,  how  many  false 
notes.  The  public  certainly  never  understood 
why,  during  a  mysterious  scene  in  the  middle  of 
the  night,  that  drum  was  heard  so  loud  and  so 


186  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

long ;  perhaps  they  took  it  for  a  flash  of  genius 
on  the  part  of  the  composer.  Such  was  it,  indeed, 
for  it  saved  the  situation.  I  never  think  without 
a  cold  shudder  of  the  horrors  which  the  rolling 
of  that  drum  covered  up. 

After  this  piece  of  eccentricity  I  expected  a 
torrent  of  abuse  from  the  newspapers,  when  giv- 
ing an  account  of  the  performance  ;  on  the  con- 
trary, it  was  praise,  and  only  praise,  which  they 
bestowed  upon  me  for  the  masterly  manner  in 
which  I  had  led. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE   FIKEMEN   OF   NEW  YOKK. 

To  go  to  New  York  and  not  to  see  how  fires 
are  put  out  in  America  would  be  a  most  unpar- 
donable neglect.  If  by  chance  you  should  not 
have  an  opportunity  of  witnessing  such  a  sight 
in  the  natural  course  of  events,  you  have  only  to 
get  into  the  good  graces  of  my  friend,  Mr.  King, 
and  he  will  put  you  in  the  way  of  enjoying  the 
sight  at  your  ease,  and  without  any  risk  either  to 
your  own  or  your  neighbor's  property. 

I  was  invited  to  be  present  at  an  experiment 
of  this  sort,  organized  specially  for  my  benefit, 
one  evening  after  my  concert  at  Gilmore's  Gar- 
den. 

I  cannot  do  better  on  this  occasion  than  to 
quote  the  Figaro,  where  my  visit  is  admirably 
described  by  M.  Bertie-Marriott,  the  able  corre- 


188  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

spondent  sent  by  M.  de  Yillemessant  to  America 
as  the  representative  of  his  journal. 

I  think  my  readers  will  be  thankful  if  I  do 
not  confine  myself  to  the  passage  concerning  the 
firemen.  As  there  is  ill  the  earliest  portions  of 
this  article  a  good  deal  said  about  me,  and  as  the 
title  of  this  book  compels  me  at  times  to  speak 
rather  more  of  myself  than  I  should  like,  I  am 
happy  that  another  has,  in  this  instance,  taken 
upon  himself  to  give  an  account  of  my  doings. 
Here  is,  then,  without  further  preamble,  the  arti- 
cle in  question : 

"  NEW  YORK,  5th  June,  1876. 

"  One  engine,  that  of  the  railroad,  has  brought 
me  to  Jersey  City;  another,  that  of  the  ferry- 
boat, has  landed  me  in  New  York,  the  '  Empire 
City '  of  the  continent.  Here  we  were,  on  board 
of  that  vast  construction,  the  ferry-boat,  a  whole 
crowd  of  men,  horses,  and  carriages.  All  were 
standing,  men  and  beasts — all  anxious  to  arrive 
at  their  destination.  It  was  night,  and  yet  it  was 
evident  that  all  these  people  were  in  haste — in 
haste  to  take  their  rest  and  to  get  rid  of  sleep. 


THE   FEREMEN    OF   NEW   YORK.  189 

For  is  not  sleep  so  much  lost  time?  To-day 
drives  them  towards  to-morrow,  and  to-morrow 
is  for  each  what  yesterday  was — business,  strug- 
gle. Time  is  money ;  therefore  let  none  be  lost. 

"The  conversations  are  curt,  and  always  on 
business.  It  would  not  be  an  exaggeration  to 
say  that  out  of  every  hundred  words  spoken,  the 
word  dollar  is  heard  seventy-five  times.  The 
golden  calf  has  many  worshippers,  and  there  is 
no  Moses  to  overthrow  him.  To  my  great  aston- 
ishment, I  hear  frequently  uttered  the  well-known 
name  of  Offenbach.  '  How  is  this  ? '  I  thought. 
'Have  I  been  asleep,  and  been  unconsciously 
carried  back  to  Paris  ? ' 

"  My  neighbor  reassures  me.  I  am  indeed  in 
New  York,  and  our  sympathetic  maestro  is  there 
also;  so  my  informant  tells  me.  lie  leads  an 
orchestra  nightly ;  crowds  go  to  hear  him,  to  see 
him,  to  touch  him.  'He  is  a  great  musician,' 
adds  the  Yankee ;  '  they  pay  him  one  thousand 
dollars  a  night  just  to  lead  the  orchestra  ! ' 

"  That  is  the  whole  point  for  this  man-dollar. 
'  They  pay  him  one  thousand  dollars  ! '  With 
what  admiration  and  respect,  with  what  metallic 


190  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

quiver  of  the  voice,  he  speaks  these  words :  '  They 
pay  him  one  thousand  dollars ! ' 

"  For  this  American  it  is  not  that  brilliant  and 
sparkling  music  that  will  gain  his  enthusiasm 
and  applause ;  it  is  that  figure  of  one  thousand 
dollars  a  night  which  gives  the  value  of  the  mas- 
ter. How  could  it  be  otherwise  ?  It  is  the  first 
word  he  has  heard  as  a  child;  it  was  his  first 
love  as  a  young  man ;  it  will  be  his  only  passion 
through  life. 

"  I  follow  my  guide,  and,  emerging  from  some 
badly  lighted  streets,  I  come  suddenly  to  an  im- 
mense covered  garden,  lit  by  a  thousand  colored 
lights.  It  is  vast,  it  is  splendid ;  what  a  crowd ! 
what  a  lot  of  pretty  women  ! 

"  I  reach  with  difficulty  the  centre  of  the  gar- 
den, it  is  so  densely  packed.  Upon  a  platform  a 
hundred  musicians  are  waiting,  their  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  baton  of  the  leader.  There  he  is  him- 
self ;  and  he  appears  a  little  nervous  under  the 
eager  glances  of  that  curious  multitude. 

"  The  piece  is  a  polka,  composed  on  board  the 
steamer  expressly  for  the  Americans ;  the  fact  is 
known,  and  the  public  is  therefore  pleased.  The 


THE   FIREMEN   OF   NEW   YOEK.  191 

rhythm  is  sometimes  slow,  sometimes  rapid,  in- 
termingled with  songs  and  laughter ;  it  is  bril- 
liant, exciting;  and  I  surprise  these  people, 
usually  so  cold,  so  preoccupied,  and  for  whom 
amusement  itself  is  almost  a  bore,  laughing  most 
heartily.  Musicians  and  public  are  both  carried 
away ;  thunders  of  applause  are  heard ;  the  piece 
is  unanimously  encored,  and  has  to  be  performed 
over  again. 

"It  is  over  at  last;  he  comes  down,  and  is 
kindly  permitted  to  pass.  '  Figaro ,'  he  exclaims, 
as  he  sees  me — '  Figaro'  in  New  York !  This 
gives  me  still  more  pleasure  than  what  you  have 
just  seen  and  heard.' 

"  Taking  me  by  the  arm,  he  leads  me  through 
the  crowd,  who,  from  this  mark  of  friendship, 
must  take  me  for  a  '  distinguished  personage.' 
How  many  pretty  young  ladies  would  like  to 
hang  upon  that  celebrated  arm,  that  arm  which 
makes  one  thousand  dollars  a  night ! — they  look 
at  me  positively  as  if  I  were  robbing  them. 

" '  You  must  come  with  me,'  said  the  maestro, 
'I  have  just  been  invited  to  go  and  see  the  fire- 
men ;  and  you  understand  that  I  am  very  anxious 


192  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

to  see  this  institution,  of  which  we  have  heard  so 
much,  and  of  which  they  are  so  proud.' 

"  "Well,  it  is  wonderful,  incredible !  Had  we 
not  been  there  ourselves,  watch  in  hand,  we 
would  never  have  believed  it;  we  would  have 
said :  Get  out,  you  are  a  humbug ! 

"  Here  is  in  a  few  words  what  we  saw : 

"  One  of  the  chiefs  of  the  Fire  Department,  Mr. 
King,  accompanied  us.  'Name  any  post  you 
would  like  to  take  by  surprise  ! '  he  said.  The 
Eighteenth  street  engine-house  being  close  by, 
Offenbach  mentions  it,  and  we  direct  our  steps 
towards  it.  Arriving  at  the  door,  Mr.  King  re- 
quests us  to  pay  particular  attention,  and  to  take 
out  our  watches  ;  he  then  rings  a  little  bell ;  the 
door  is  opened,  and  we  enter.  The  engine  is 
there,  bright  and  shining ;  further  back,  three 
horses  stand  in  their  stalls,  ready  harnessed.  The 
firemen  are  asleep  upstairs.  A  gong  hangs  upon 
the  wall.  '  Be  careful  now,  and  stand  out  of  the 
way  of  the  horses,'  says  Mr.  King.  And  he  gives 
the  alarm  by  striking  the  gong. 

"  The  three  horses  are  harnessed ;  twelve  men 


THE   FIREMEN   OF   NEW   YORK.  193 

are  there,  who  climb  upon  the  engine  and  take 
hold  of  the  horses ;  the  driver  shouts,  '  Ready  ! ' 
1  How  long  ? '  asks  Mr.  King.  Six  seconds  and  a 
half  had  elapsed  since  the  gong  sounded !  With- 
out one  word,  without  grumbling,  the  horses  are 
returned  to  their  stalls,  the  men  go  back  to  their 
beds.  The  inspector  had  the  right  of  seeing  if 
the  service  was  well  done ;  he  was  satisfied  the 
men  had  done  their  duty. 

"  I  confess  I  had  not  had  time  to  distinguish 
anything.  I  had  heard  a  noise  as  of  distant  thun- 
der :  it  was  the  men  ;  I  had  felt  the  floor  shaking 
dreadfully  :  it  was  the  horses ;  I  had  seen  a  red 
glare :  it  was  the  furnace  of  the  engine  ;  I  had 
caught  a  glimpse  of  a  dark  form  grasping  the 
reins :  it  was  the  driver  about  to  call  out  '•ready  ; ' 
but,  I  repeat,  I  had  had  no  time  to  distinguish 
anything,  and  yet,  as  the  driver  said,  all  was 
ready — in  six  seconds  and  a  half  ! 

"  I  looked  at  Offenbach  ;  he  was  dumb,  and  still 
staring,  although  everything  was  already  in  its 
usual  order ;  his  eyes  were  fixed  and  vacant  as 
though  he  were  under  the  influence  of  a  temporary 
night-mare ;  he  looked  dazed,  and  I  fancy  I  did 


194  OFFENBACH    IN   AMERICA. 

not  look  unlike  him.  Have  I  succeeded  in  giving 
you  an  idea  of  this  terrific,  overwhelming,  light- 
ning rapidity  ?  The  thought  of  our  French  fire- 
engines  crossed  my  mind,  and  I  felt  ashamed. 

"  '  What  do  you  think  of  it  ? '  asked  Mr.  King. 

" '  I  have  seen  many  fairy  pieces,'  said  Offen- 
bach, who  had  recovered  the  use  of  speech, '  but 
never  anything  to  equal  this.' 

"  Mr.  King  smiled.  '  I  am  going,'  he  said, ( to 
show  you  something  better  still ;  come  with  me.' 
"We  followed  him  ;  and  having  reached  Madison 
Square,  he  stops  us  in  front  of  a  tall  pole. 

"  '  I  am  going  to  open  this  box,'  he  continued, 
'and  you,  maestro,  will  press  the  knob  inside, 
which  communicates  with  six  posts  or  companies 
like  the  one  we  have  just  left,  each  stationed  at 
different  places — the  nearest  about  one  mile,  and 
the  furthest  about  two  miles  off.  Prepare  your 
watches  ;  by  pressing  the  knob,  you  will  give  the 
alarm  in  these  six  posts.  Are  you  ready  ? 
Press ! ' 

"  It  was  midnight.  Many  carriages  were  still 
circulating  through  the  adjacent  streets.  All  at 
once,  and  from  all  directions,  the  sound  of  bells 


THE  FIREMEN  OF  NEW  YORK.        195 

is  heard,  accompanied  by  a  fearful  rumbling 
noise.  The  carriages  at  once  drive  to  one  side  of 
the  way  ;  the  foot  passengers  stand  motionless ; 
*  on  al]  sides  is  heard  the  cry,  '  Fire  !  fire  ! ' 

"  They  arrive  at  full  speed,  roaring,  hissing, 
puffing,  emitting  clouds  of  smoke  and  steam. 
Firemen  and  engines  are  on  hand.  '  Where  ? 
Where  f '  ask  the  men.  The  horses  are  already 
unhitched  ;  the  hose  fast  and  ready.  '  Where  ? 
Where  ? '  A  sign  stops  this  ardor ;  each  one 
returns  to  his  post  without  a  word  of  displeasure 
or  a  sign  of  annoyance. 

" '  How  long  ? '  asked  Mr  King. 

"  '  Four  minutes  and  a  half  ! ' 

"  Thus,  in  four  minutes  and  a  half,  six  power- 
ful engines  were  ready  to  pour  torrents  of  water 
on  the  threatened  building  ;  by  pressing  another 
knob,  six  more  would  have  been  called ;  and  in 
the  same  manner  all  the  engines  in  the  city 
would  have  come  if  necessary. 

"Never,  as  long  as  I  live,  will -I  forget  the 
emotion  which  I  had  experienced  that  night. 
'  Do  you  wish  to  see  anything  more  ? '  asked 
Mr.  King. 


196  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

"  '  No,  no,  this  will  do  ;  it  is  too  exciting.' 
"  And  again  I  cannot  help  thinking  of  a  fire  in 
Paris ;  of  the  senseless  shouts  of  the  crowd  ;  of 
the  absurd  little  machine,  with  its  little  buckets  ; 
of  those  hand-engines,  arriving  always  when  the 
evil  is  already  past  remedy ;  of  our  brave  firemen 
running,  full  of  ardor,  it  is  true,  but  out  of 
breath,  and  tired  out,  before  they  have  com- 
menced their  task. 

u  What  a  contrast !  All  this  is  here,  and  any 
one  may  come  and  see  it.  Come,  Messrs.  Under- 
writers, come  and  see  for  yourselves ;  you  would 
gain,  and  so  should  we,  by  importing  this  system 
into  France ;  your  profits  would  be  greater,  and 
our  dividends  more  satisfactory.  Come !  a  little 
courage,  a  little  effort  against  routine,  and  I 
promise  you  that  your  first  night  in  New  York 
will  be  as  well  employed  as  mine.  .  .  .  but,  alas, 
you  will  not  come  ! 

"(Signed),  BERTIE  HARRIOTT." 

I  will  add  only  two  words  to  the  faithful  ac- 
count which  the  correspondent  of  the  Figaro  has 
given  of  my  stupor,  on  witnessing  the  astounding 


THE   FIREMEN   OF  NEW   YORK.  197 

agility  of  these  American  firemen.  I  caught 
them  just  as  the  strokes  of  the  gong  had  started 
them  from  their  sleep.  Nothing  more  marvel- 
lous than  to  see  them  slide  from  their  beds,  drop 
into  trowsers,  which  form  one  piece  with  their 
boots,  fasten  their  suspenders,  put  on  their 
leather  helmet,  and  leap  upon  their  horses — 
these  men,  who  from  sleeping  soundly  in  their 
beds,  are  transformed  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye 
into  wide-awake  firemen,  dressed  and  on  horse- 
back. It  was  better  than  stage  f airydom  ;  it  was 
real  magic. 


CHAPTER  XXIY. 

BANQUETS,  BATON,  AND  BREVET. 

BEFOBE  leaving  New  York  for  Philadelphia  I 
gave  a  banquet  to  my  orchestra. 

Before  giving  ourselves  up  to  the  composition 
of  speeches,  and  enjoying  the  excellent  cuisine 
of  the  Brunswick,  I  received  a  mark  of  esteem 
from  my  musicians,  accompanied  by  a  material 
souvenir,  both  of  which  afforded  me  much  grati- 
fication. They  came  in  a  body  to  offer  me  a 
leader's  baton,  which  was  worthy  of  a  field-mar- 
Bhal.  This  jewel  is  made  of  gutta-percha,  imitat- 
ing ebony,  the  two  ends  mounted  in  gold,  an 
agate  set  in  on  one  side,  and  an  amethyst  on  the 
other.  In  the  middle  of  the  baton  is  a  lyre  of 
massive  gold,  with  my  monogram.  The  musi- 
cians presented  me  at  the  same  time  with  the  fol- 
lowing resolutions,  printed  on  white  satin : 

"  At  a  meeting  of  the  undersigned,  members  of 


BANQUETS,  BATON,  AND  BREVET.      199 

the  orchestra  playing  under  the  direction  of 
Jacques  Offenbach,  at  Gilmore's  Garden,  in  this 
city,  it  has  been  : 

"  Resolved,  That,  desirous  of  expressing  to  our 
honored  leader  and  friend  our  earnest  and  warm 
appreciation  of  himself,  since  we  have  learnt  to 
know  him,  it  is 

"Resolved,  That  we  tender  him  this  baton,  as  a 
testimonial  of  our  cordial  sentiments  of  respect 
for  his  well-deserved  reputation,  so  honorably 
sustained  here  ;  of  our  admiration  for  his  genius, 
his  talent,  and  zeal  in  our  profession,  and  as  a 
tribute  of  our  affection,  which  he  has  won  by  the 
excellence  of  all  his  relations  with  us. 

"Resolved,  That  his  constant  courtesy,  oblig- 
ing disposition,  amiability,  and  sincere  friend- 
ship, for  each  and  all  of  us,  have  made  him  dear 
to  our  hearts,  and  will  always  render  pleasant  to 
us  the  memory  of  our  connection. 

"Resolved,  That  we  offer  him  our  sincerest 
wishes  for  his  prosperity  and  happiness ;  and  may 
a  success,  even  greater,  if  possible,  than  in  the 
past,  crown  his  future  career." 

I  thanked  them  warmly,  expressing  my  grati- 


200  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

tude,  and  assuring  them  that  the  excellent  recol- 
lections I  cherished  of  their  talent  and  of  their 
sympathy  would  live  eternally  in  my  memory. 

The  following  day,  which  was  the  day  preced- 
ing my  departure  for  the  Centennial  City,  I  en- 
tertained at  dinner  the  literary,  artistic,  and 
financial  celebrities  of  the  Imperial  City. 

Here  is  the  account  of  this  dinner,  as  published 
in  the  Courrier  des  Etats-  Unis. 

"OFFENBACH'S  DINNER. 

"  Few  European  artists  have  been  received  in 
New  York  like  the  composer  of  the  Grande 
Duchesse.  It  must  be  confessed,  too,  that  Jacques 
Offenbach  has  doubtless  received  from  the  fairies 
that  precious  gift,  which  hitherto  had  seemed  to 
be  the  exclusive  privilege  of  twenty-dollar  gold 
pieces :  he  pleases  everybody.  The  composer's 
talent  may  be  questioned,  but  no  one  can  fail  to 
feel  kindly  towards  the  man.  His  cordiality,  his 
modesty,  his  brilliant  wit,  always  prompt  for 
repartee,  yet  never  departing  from  the  laws  of 
the  strictest  courtesy,  his  unpretending  affability, 
acquire  for  him  the  friendship  of  all.  He  has 


BANQUET,  BATON,  AND  BKEVET.       201 

received  here  every  homage ;  he  has  been  sur- 
rounded with  flattering  attentions,  entertained, 
serenaded,  and  honored  in  every  way.  In  return 
for  all  this  courtesy,  he  offered,  on  Wednesday 
night,  to  the  press  and  to  a  few  eminent  members 
of  the  artistic  world,  a  dinner,  or  rather  a  ban- 
quet, of  which  the  most  skeptical  stomachs,  if  not 
the  hearts,  will  retain  an  eternal  memory. 

"  It  was  in  the  dining-saloon  of  the  hotel  Bruns- 
wick that  this  charming  fete  took  place.  Repre- 
sentatives of  all  branches  of  arts  were  invited ; 
music,  literature,  painting,  sculpture,  and  even 
finance  met  there  around  the  social  board. 

"  When  the  exquisite  cheer  and  delicate  wines, 
the  enumeration  of  which  would  be  too  long 
(besides,  charity  forbid  us  tantalizing  our  absent 
friends  to  that  extent),  had  raised  the  spirits  of 
the  guests  to  the  proper  pitch,  the  toasts  began  : 

"  Offenbach  naturally  led  off,  opening  the  ball 
in  the  most  attractive,  the  most  humorous,  and  at 
the  same  time  the  most  feeling  of  all  speeches, 
past,  present,  future ;  he  drank  to  the  press,  the 
New  York  press,  and  especially  to  the  French 

press,    to  which  he   said  he  owed  in   a  great 
9* 


202  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

measure  his  success  and  the  popularity  of  his 
name. 

"Mr.  Fr.  Schwab  replied  in  behalf  of  the 
American  press,  and  M.  Ch.  Villa  in  that  of  the 
French  journals.  Doctor  Ruppaner  captivated 
the  attention  of  his  hearers  by  a  brilliant  address, 
expressed  in  the  most  elegant  terms.  Mr.  S. 
Fiske,  of  the  Fifth  Avenue  Theatre,  replied  in 
behalf  of  the  artists.  M.  Auguste  Bartholdi, 
author  of  the  statue  of  Lafayette  and  of  "  Liberty 
Enlightening  the  "World,"  commenced  in  his  turn, 
and  proved  that  he  understood  the  art  of  Demos- 
thenes as  well  as  that  of  Phidias.  M.  Skalkow- 
sky,  member  of  the  Russian  Commission  at  the 
Exhibition,  explained,  in  a  few  eloquent  words, 
spoken  in  the  purest  French,  a  few  general  and 
generous  ideas  upon  the  relations  between  Europe 
and  America. 

"  All  these  orators  were  vehemently  applauded  ; 
as  to  the  host,  sitting  as  grave  as  an  Olympian 
god  upon  his  cloud,  yet  as  gay  as  an  epicurean 
in  the  exercise  of  his  functions,  he  faced  every- 
thing, replied  to  every  one,  and  ended  by  propos- 
ing a  toast  to  Francis  Kinzler,  the  organizer  of 


BANQUET,  BATON,  AND  BKEVET.       203 

this  exquisite  and  elegantly  served  supper.  It  was 
now  day-light,  and  the  guests,  seeing  the  sun 
about  to  rise,  concluded,  with  much  satisfaction, 
that  they  were  as  virtuous  as  it  is  possible  to  be 
here  below." 

The  next  day  I  gave  my  farewell  concert  in 
Gilmore's  Garden,  which  on  this  occasion  was 
crowded  to  excess.  I  could  see  from  the  stage 
nothing  but  a  moving  sea  of  heads.  My  pieces 
were  encored  two,  and  even  three  times,  with  des- 
perate enthusiasm. 

In  vain  I  put  on  my  coat  and  hat,  descended 
from  the  platform,  and  looked  beseechingly  at 
these  amiable  Yankees ;  it  was  of  no  use.  They 
clapped  their  hands  with  frenzy ;  they  knocked 
with  their  canes  against  the  chairs ;  they  smashed 
the  benches,  until  I  returned  to  my  stand.  Then 
there  was  a  roar  of  satisfaction  for  a  moment, 
after  which  the  most  perfect  silence  prevailed  in 
the  hall  during  the  execution  of  the  piece. 

At  the  close  of  the  last  piece,  my  orchestra 
joined  the  crowd,  and  made  the  ovation  more 
overwhelming  still. 


204  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

I  was  so  overcome  that  it  was  with  difficulty  I 
oould  find  words  to  thank  these  kind  friends. 

To  the  deafening  hurrahs  of  the  spectators  was 
mingled  a  joyous  blast,  spontaneously  executed  by 
a  number  of  the  musicians ;  whilst  the  violinists 
performed  the  ratta  by  knocking  with  their  bows 
upon  the  backs  of  their  instruments. 

In  the  midst  of  this  manifestation,  I  received, 
from  the  hands  of  the  first  violinist,  in  the  name 
of  all  his  associates,  that  famous  brevet  of  mem- 
bership in  the  association  of  the  musicians  of  New 
York  which  I  mentioned  at  the  commencement  of 
these  remarks. 

I  promised  then  that,  before  my  departure  for 
France,  I  would  give  a  last  concert  for  the  bene- 
fit of  the  association,  of  which  I  was  henceforth  a 
member. 


CHAPTER  XXY. 

FABEWELL  NIGHT. 

ON  my  return  from  Niagara  I  gave  the  prom- 
ised concert.  The  immense  placards  with  which 
the  walls  were  covered  announced  to  all  that  I 
was  to  appear  for  the  last  time.  I  had  never  be- 
fore seen  my  name  under  this  aspect ;  the  letters 
were  as  tall  as  I  am  and  four  times  as  broad. 
The  American  public  showed  a  due  appreciation 
of  these  splendid  bills.  Gilmore's  Garden  was 
filled  with  the  elite  of  New  York  society.  The 
moment  I  appeared  I  was  hailed  with  cheers, 
hurrahs,  and  enthusiastic  applause.  And  they 
say  Americans  are  a  cold-blooded  people !  I 
will  spare  you  the  particulars  of  that  night,  for 
aside  of  the  fact  that  I  have  sworn  to  speak  as 
little  as  possible  of  myself,  I  must  confess  that  I 
was  so  overcome  by  this  unexpected  manifestation 


206  OFFENBACH   EST   AMERICA. 

that  I  did  not  very  well  comprehend  what  was 
going  on  around  me. 

After  the  concert,  I  found  with  difficulty  a  few 
words  to  repeat,  once  more,  my  thanks  to  my 
musicians  for  the  valuable  assistance  they  had 
given  me  during  my  visit,  expressing  the  wish, 
of  the  sincerity  of  which  they  could  have  no 
doubt,  that  the  success  they  so  well  deserved 
might  continue  long  after  my  departure.  They 
thanked  me  for  the  performance  I  had  given 
for  the  benefit  of  their  association,  and  made  me 
promise  to  return  to  America  in  the  course  of 
two  or  three  years.  I  promised,  as  people  prom- 
ise at  such  times  ;  but,  should  circumstances  per- 
mit, I  assure  you  that  it  would  be  very  pleasant 
to  me  to  return  to  Yankee-land  and  to  improve  my 
acquaintance  with  this  marvellous  country  and 
with  this  great  people,  who  showed  me  a  degree 
of  sympathy  which  will  ever  remain  dear  to  my 
memory. 


CHAPTER  XXYI. 

HOMEWARD-BOUND. 

ON  the  8th  July  I  sailed  on  board  the  Candidas 
which,  to  my  great  satisfaction,  happened  to  be 
ready  to  leave  for  France  at  the  same  time  as 
myself.  Many  of  my  American  friends  insisted 
upon  escorting  me  as  far  as  my  cabin. 

Shall  I  attempt  to  express,  dear  French  reader, 
the  joy  with  which  one  treads  the  deck  of  the 
vessel  that  is  to  take  you  back  to  your  own  coun- 
try, and  to  restore  you  to  those  who  are  dearer 
than  the  most  dazzling  success  or  the  most  numer- 
ous dollars  ? 

Ah !  it  would  have  taken  a  mighty  large  sum 
of  money  to  have  induced  me  to  leave  this  vessel ! 
Among  the  passengers  who  were  returning  to 
France  with  me  was  M.  de  la  Forest,  the  French 
Consul  at  New  York,  who  was  going  on  leave  of 
absence  for  a  few  months,  on  account  of  his 


208  OFFENBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

health;  M.  Baknutoff,  Secretary  of  the  Russian 
Legation  at  Washington,  a  most  distinguished 
young  man,  who  never  allowed  the  conversation 
to  flag  at  the  captain's  table,  and  from  whom  I 
won  numerous  games  of  bezique  to  while  away 
the  long  leisure  hours  of  the  passage.  We  had 
also  two  doctors  as  passengers,  Dr.  Bastien  and 
Dr.  Roussel,  who  were  both  ill  during  the  pass- 
age, a  circumstance  which  I  doubly  regretted, 
as  they  were  both,  although  Republicans,  genuine 
travellers — that  is,  men  who  had  seen  and  read 
much,  and  understood  life  thoroughly. 

There  was  also  my  excellent  friend,  M.  Bertie- 
Marriott,  correspondent  of  the  Figaro,  with 
whom  I  had  the  pleasure  of  talking  over  the 
various  excursions  we  had  made  together  in 
America  as  well  as  of  discussing  the  manners 
and  habits  of  the  New  World,  which  I  was  to 
sketch  after  my  return  home. 

I  will  also  mention,  while  sending  them  my 
kindest  remembrance,  should  these  lines  ever 
fall  under  their  eyes,  M.  Glisenkeimer,  an 
American  merchant,  and  one  of  the  gayest  of 
polyglots ;  M.  Schorestene,  and  Mr.  J.  White — 


HOMEWAKD-BOUND.  209 

the  latter  a  mulatto,  who  had  taken  the  first  prize 
as  violinist  at  the  Paris  Conservatoire. 

The  weather  was  splendid  during  the  whole 
passage,  and  there  were  only  three  little  incidents 
to  note  during  the  trip.  The  first  was  at  the 
moment  of  starting.  The  vessel,  through  the 
carelessness  of  the  pilot,  ran  against  the  Ame- 
rique,  another  French  vessel,  which  was  to  start 
the  following  week.  We  cut  a  deep  gash  in 
Captain  Pouzolz's  ship,  and  one  of  our  life-boats 
was  crushed.  The  sinister  crash,  caused  by  the 
collision,  made  a  deep  impression  upon  me.  For- 
tunately, fright  was  the  only  harm  done. 

The  second  incident  was  more  comic  than  ter- 
rible. One  evening,  as  we  were  sitting  in  the 
saloon,  chatting  and  taking  tea,  we  were  surprised 
to  see  a  Portuguese  passenger  come  in,  dressed,  or 
rather  undressed,  in  the  costume  of  a  baker  at 
work ;  the  unfortunate  man  was  intoxicated. 
Fortunately,  there  were  only  two  or  three  ladies 
on  board,  and,  before  he  had  time  to  commit  any 
excess,  the  purser  took  charge  of  him  and  led  him 
to  his  cabin.  It  seems  that  he  had  disposed  that 
evening  of  a  whole  dozen  bottles  of  rum. 


210  OFFEXBACH   IN   AMERICA. 

The  third  incident  is  so  sad,  and  yet  so  ridicu- 
lous, that  I  have  decided,  after  correcting  my 
proofs,  to  suppress  it.  Perhaps  I  may  relate  it 
at  some  future  time ;  but  at  the  present  moment 
I  should  deem  it  a  want  of  respect  towards  the 
kind  and  indulgent  reader  to  reveal  to  him  some 
of  the  sad  details  of  life  at  sea. 

It  was  half-past  eight  when  the  Canada,  under 
a  radiant  sun,  and  upon  a  sea  whose  surface  was 
as  smooth  as  a  mirror,  came  in  sight  of  the  lovely 
hills  of  Normandy  and  entered  the  harbor  of 
Havre. 

To  complete  my  joy,  my  entire  family  and 
many  of  my  friends  had  been  waiting  for  me  for 
hours,  and  all  my  children  were  waving  their 
handkerchiefs  excitedly  as  they  caught  sight  of 
me  on  the  deck. 

^£j  j°J  was  as  great  on  again  seeing  my  be- 
loved family  as  my  sorrow  had  been  when  I  had 
left  them.  I  wept  with  emotion,  and  could 
scarcely  forbear  throwing  myself  into  the  sea  to 
put  an  end  to  this  agony  of  seeing  there  all  that 
was  dearest  to  me  in  the  world,  and  yet  not  being 
able  to  clasp  them  to  my  heart. 


HOMEWAKD-BOUND.  211 

An  hour  later  the  ship  was  fast  at  the  dock, 
and  I  had  become  once  more  Offenbach  in 
France. 


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Souvenirs  of  Travel. — By  Madame  Octavia  Walton  Le  Vert  

Woman,  Love  and  Marriage.— A  spicy  little  work  by  Fred  Saunders 

Shiftless  Folks. — A  brilliant  new  novel  by  Fannie  Smith 

A  Woman  in  Armor. — A  powerful  new  novel  1  •>•  Mary  Hartwell 

The  Fall  of  Man. — A  Darwinian  satire.    Auti  or  of  "New  Gospel  of  Peace.'*... . 

The  Chronicles  of  Gotham. — A  modern  satire.     Do.  Do.  

The  Story  of  a  Summer. — Journal  Leaves  by  Cecelia  Cleveland - 

Phemie  Frost's  Experiences. — By  Mrs  Ann  S.  Stephens 

Bill  Arp's  Peace  Papers. — Full  of  convc  illustrations 

A  Book  of  Epitaphs. — Amusing,  quaint,  and  curious. . .  .(New) 

Ballad  of  Lord  Bateman. — With  illustrations  by  Cruiltshank,  (paper) 

The  Yachtman's  Primer. — For  amateur  sailors.     T.  R.  Warren,  (paper) 

Rural  Architecture.—  By  M.  Field.     With  plans  and  illustrations 

wl;p.t  I  Know  of  Farming. — By  Horace  Greeley 

•insformation   Scenes  in   the   United    States. — By  Hiram  Fuller 

' 


ii  90 

2    CO 

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5° 

50 

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Kingsbury  Sketches.—  Pine  Grove  d 
Miscellc 

Led  Astray  —  By  Octave  Fetiillet..$ 
She  Loved  Him  Madly.  —  Borys.. 
Through  Thick  and  Thin.  —  Mery. 
So  Fair  Yet  False.  —  Chavette  
A  Fatal  Passion.  —  Bomard  
Manfred  —  F.  D.  Guera/zi  

s.     introduction  by  author     Kutieage.    ... 
oings,  by  John  H.  Kingsbury.    Illustrated.. 

ineous   Novels. 

75     Saint  Leger.  —  Richard  B.  Kimball.| 
75    Was  He  Successful?  Do. 

So 
50 

75 
75 
75 
75 
5° 
75 
75 
75 
75 
50 
5° 
50 
50 
So 
75 
75 
75 
75 
75 
75 

oo 
oo 

00 

5° 
*5 
75 
50 

75    Undercurrents  of  Wall  St.      Do. 
75     Romance  of  Student  Life  Do. 
75     Life  in  San  Domingo  Do. 
75    Henry  Powers,  Banker  Do. 
50    To-Day  Do. 
75    Bessie  Wilmerton.  —  Westcott  
75     Cachet.—  Mrs.  M.  J.  R.  Hamilton... 
75     Romance  of  Railroad.  —  Smith..   .. 
50    Fairfax.  —  John  Estcn  Cooke  

Seen  and  Unseen  
Purple  and  Fine  Linen.  —  Fawcett.  . 
Asses'  Ears  Do. 
A  Charming  Widow.  —  Macquoid. 
True  to  Him  Ever.—  By  F.  W.  R.. 
The  Forgiving  Kiss.—  By  M.  Loth. 
Loyal  Unto  Death  
Kenneth,  My  King.—  S.  A.  Brock.. 
Heart  Hungry.-M.  J.Westmoreland 
Clifford  Troupe.             Do. 
Silcott    Mill.—  Mrs.  Deslonde  
Ebon  and  Gold.—  C.  L.  Mcllvain.. 
Robert   Greathouse.—J.  F.  Swift.. 
Charette               

75     Hilt  to  Hilt.                  Do  

75    Out  of  the  Foam.     Do  
75    Hammer  and  Rapier.Do  

75    Warwick.—  By  M.  T.  Walwarth  
75     Luln.                             Do. 
75    Hotspur.                     Do.               
50    Stormcliff.                 Do.                
oo    Delaplaine.               Do. 
50    Beverly,                     Do. 

neons   'Works. 

oo    Northern  Ballads.  —  Anders  n  j 
50    O.  C.  Kerr  Papers.  —  4  vols.  in  i.  ... 
50    Victor  Hugo.  —  His  life  .. 
50    Beauty  is  Power  
50    Sandwiches.  —  Artemus  Ward  
25    Widow  Spriggins.  —  Widow  Bedott. 
25    Squibob  Paper*.—  John  Phoenix.  ... 

Miscellt 

Beldazzle's  Bachelor  Studies.  ...J 
Little  Wanderers.  —  Illustrated  .... 
GenesL;  Disclosed.—  T.  A.  Davies.. 
Commodore   Rollingpin's  Log... 
Brazen  Gates.  —  A  juvenile  
i     Antidote  to  Gates  Ajar  
'    The  Snoblace  Ball  

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


JAN  5      i 

jg.  DEC  141964 

'^  1  6  195L 

toVl-^ 

3 

JUN      3  1<*W 

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jftN  7    1S65 

JON  16  19591 

P. 

M. 

l_6j 

:'D  ML.D-2-^ 

:J 

piLKJRL 

1  1939 

• 

MAY  2  6  1959 

OCT26T959 

MAR  1  3  1961 

JAN    T      A 

Form  L9-10w-3,'48  ( A7920)444 


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